BY 

LOIS  WAISBROOKER 


FOURTH     EDITION". 


BOSTON: 
WILLIAM    WHITE    AND    COMPANY, 

BANNER    OF    LIGHT    OFFICE, 

158  WASHINGTON  STREET. 

NEW-YORK  AGENTS  — THE  AMERICAN  NEWS  COMPANY, 
119  NASSAU  STREET. 

1871. 


BNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  T.OS 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

LOIS  WAISBROOKER, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


William  White  &  Co.,  Stereotypers  and  Printers. 


DEDICATION. 


fpo  my  well-beloved  sister,  Mrs.  SARAH  M.  BEARDSI/ET,  who  went  with 
"     the  angels,  from  Crittenden,  Erie  Co.,  N.Y.,  Oct.  8, 1867. 
Dear,  patient,  gentle,  loving  sister,  though  gone  from  mortal  sight,  thcu  art 

still  with  me,  art  still  one  of  the  brightest  stars  in  love's  firmament. 
By  the  memories  of  our  childhood,  when  thou  wort  ever  by  my  side;  by 

thy  loving  sympathy  and  appreciation  in  the  trials  of  after  years ;  and  by 

our  hopes  of  future  companionship  in  the  world  of  spirits, — I  dedicate  this 

book  to  THEE. 

THY  SISTER  LOIS 


213C89O 


TO  THE  READER. 


reader,    in   presenting   to   you    the    following 
^     combination    of    facts    and    fancies,  —  facts   from 
the  field  of  my  own  experience  and  that   of  others,  and 
fancies  wherewith  to  connect  and  clothe  them, — I  have 
tried  to  be  true  to  nature. 
How  well  I  have  succeeded,  is  left  for  you  to  judge. 

THE  AUTHORESS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOI. 

CHILDHOOD     ........«•••  .9 

CHAPTER  LL 
THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB •••  .IT 

CHAPTEI1  ™V 
THE  PROPUECT ....    85 

•CHAPTER  IV. 
COALS  OF  FIRE •«<•«'          •••49 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  CLOUD  RISING ....   61 

CHAPTER  YL 
TELLING  TAXES .      .      .      .   T8 

CHAPTER  VTL 
A  RIFT  nr  THE  CLOUD     .......  •••87 

CHAPTER  VIEL 
MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS ••••..96 

CHAPTER  IX. 
GOD'S  ELECT ••••..Ill 

CHAPTER  X. 
DESPAIR  .........  .      ....  123 

CHAPTER  XI. 

RETRIBUTION .......134 

7 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIL 

J»OE. 

MORE  TIIEOIXXST 156 

CHAPTER  XTTT. 
THE  CIRCLE ••••*•<  166 

CHAPTER  23V. 
CONSULTATION .*»•»».  178 

CHAPTER  XV. 
AFTER  MANY  DATS •••••100 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
HOST  FEARED •••  .      .  211 


CHAPTER  XV1L 

FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  —  SLANDER,  &c.        . 


CHAPTER  xvuf, 
INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  &c.   .........  340 


ALICE    VALE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

CHILDHOOD. 

Leave  not  the  vine  to  stand  erect, 
Nor  train  the  oak  to  crawl. 

HAT  a  strange  child !  " 
«  Who  ?  " 

"Who?  why  Alice  Vale,  to  be  sure:  I 
never  saw  another  like  her." 

u  What  made  you  think  of  her  now  ?  " 
"  Why.  don't  you  see  her  over  the  way  there,  talking 
with  Crazy  Pete  ?     Other  children,  large  and  small,  are 
afraid  of  him  :  even  my  Helen,  though  two  years  older 
than  Alice,  will  cross  the  street  to  avoid  meeting  him.'' 
"  Is  he  dangerous,  or  troublesome  ?  " 
"  Not  as  I  have  ever  heard ;  but,  somehow,  he  has  a 
way  of  making  the  younger  portion  of  the  community 
avoid  him,  —  all  except  Alice  ;  and  she  seems  to  under- 
stand him  as  well  as  though  she  had  had  charge  of  an 
insane  asylum  for  a  score  of  years." 
"  Better,  perhaps," 
*'  Bett  3r !  why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

9 


10  ALICE  VALE. 

"  Because  some  persons  know  instinctively  what  it 
takes  others  a  lifetime  to  learn." 

"  I  thought  that  instinct  belonged  to  the  animal  king- 
dom only." 

"  Intuitively  would  have  been  a  better  word." 

"  Well,  I  can't  see  the  difference ;  and  this  acting 
without  thought  never  ends  in  any  good :  if  she  was  a 
child  of  mine,  I'd  teach  her  better  than  to  be  wander- 
ing around  with  a  crazy  vagabond  like  Pete  Stiverton. 
It  can  do  her  no  good,  if  it  does  not  result  in  positive 
injury :  people  are  more  or  less  affected  by  the  company 
they  keep  ;  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Alice  went  crazy 
herself  yet." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"Oh !  a  great  many  things.  She  is  always  doing  or 
saying  some  out-of-the-way,  unheard-of  thing.  Crazy 
people,  you  know,  are  remarkable  for  sharp,  cunning 
speeches  ;  and  I  never  saw  her  equal  at  that.  What  do 
you  suppose  she  said  about  Uncle  Edward  the  other 
day?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  can  not  imagine." 

"  Uncle,  as  you  know,  lives  with  us,  and  has  from  the 
time  he  lost  his  wife.  He  has  had  trouble  in  the  past, 
it  is  true,  but  nothing  that  need  to  affect  him  particu- 
larly now :  still,  at  times,  he  becomes  very  despondent, 
so  much  so  that  it  makes  it  really  unpleasant  for  all 
about  him.  I  was  speaking  of  this  at  Mrs.  Vale's  one 
day  last  week,  when  Alice  looked  up  and  said,  '  All  he 
needs,  Mrs.  Roland,  is  a  good  tonic.' 

"'A  tonic?'  I  asked  in  surprise;  'what  do  you 
mean  ?  he  is  not  sick.' 

"  *  N  -t  in  body,'  she  replied  ;  '  but  life  is  moving  too 


CHILDHOOD.  11 

easy  with  him:  he  has  so  much  of  the  sweet  tlat  it 
sickens  him,  and  he  has  to  look  back  to  the  old  'times 
for  something  bitter  ;  now,  if  he  had  some  real  present 
trouble,  it  would  so  stir  him  up  that  he  would  forget  all 
about  the  blues.' 

"  I  looked  at  the  girl  in  perfect  astonishment,  while 
she  continued,  '  I  know  that  it  is  so ;  for  there  is  old 
Mrs.  Frost,  who  has  been  mourning  and  complaining  al. 
summer:  one  could  not  be  in  her  company  ten  min- 
utes but  she  would  commence  talking  about  the  loss  of 
her  husband  and  property,  and  of  her  hard  lot  in  life  ; 
but  she  is  happy  enough  now.  I  saw  her  this  morning, 
and  she  looked  so  cheerful  that  it  was  like  sunshine  ;  and 
all  because  her  Mary,  who  has  been  sick,  is  getting  bet- 
ter.' 

" '  And  is  not  that  enough  to  make  her  glad  ? '  I 
asked. 

" '  Ought  she  not  to  have  been  just  as  glad  that 
Mary  was  well  before  she  was  sick  at  all  ?  '  was  her 
quick  response.  '  No,  no :  she  needed  the  bitter,  she 
needed  the  tonic,  that's  all.' 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  a  child  of  fifteen  mak- 
ing such  a  speech  as  that?  " 

"  I  think  she  has  heard  some  older  person  make  the 
remark,  or  something  like  it,  and,  treasuring  the  idea, 
has  expressed  it  in  her  own  language." 

"  No :  her  mother  says  that  she  is  always  making  just 
such  speeches." 

"  Yes ;  and  mothers  are  very  apt  to  think  their  chil 
dren  especially  smart." 

"  But  not  so  Mrs.  Vale :  she  looks  upon  it  as  a  fault, 
and  chides  Alice  severely  for  being  so  '  forward  and 
saucy,'  "to  i  se  her  own  words." 


12  ALICE    VALE. 

"  Do  you  say  that  Alice  is  fifteen  ?  " 

"  Yes :  she  is  two  months  older  than  ray  Fi  fddy  ;  but 
she  acts  so  much  like  a  child,  notwithstanding  her  smart 
speeches,  that  one  would  never  suppose  her  tD  be  that 
old:  and  such  a  romp !  Only  last  week,  as  I  was  passing 
there,  Mrs.  Vale  came  to  the  door  and  called  for  Alice  ; 
and  where  do  you  think  she  was  ?  up  in  the  very  top 
of  the  largest  cherry-tree,  sitting  there  as  contentedly 
as  if  she  were  a  bird,  and  her  home  a  tree. 

" '  Why,  Alice  ! '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vale,  '  how  came 
you  up  there  ?  ' 

"  4  O  mother!  the  cherries  are  getting  ripe.  I  found 
half  a  dozen,  up  here,  where  they  have  a  fair  chance  to 
the  sun,  that  were  real  good :  then  I  got  to  watching  a 
bird  in  the  next  tree,  looking  at  the  clouds,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  bees,  till  I  forgot  all  about  my  work ;  but  I 
will  come  right  down  now,  and  do  whatever  you  wish 
me  to.' 

"'I  wish  more  than  any  thing  else,'  replied  .her 
mother,  '  that  you  would  quit  acting  so  much  like  a 
boy,  and  learn  to  be  a  woman.' 

u  '  But  I  am  not  a  woman  yet,  mother :  when  I  am, 
I  will  act  like  one.' 

"  4  Neither  are  you  a  boy,'  said  Mrs.  Vale  ;  '  but  you 
certainly  act  like  one,  romping  and  climbing  half  the 
time.' 

" '  Mother,'  'said  Alice,  '  did  God  make  the  sunshine, 
birds,  nuts,  bees,  squirrels,  and  all  the  wonderful  things 
that  I  find  in  the  fields  and  woods,  only  for  the  boys  ? ' 

"  *  Certainly  not :  what  a  question  ! ' 

" '  I  should  think  he  did  by  the  way  people  talk 
when  girls  try  to  enjoy  them  in  their  own  wa'r.' 


CHILDHOOD.  13 

" '  O  Alice,  Alice !  what  will  ever  become  of  you  ? 
You  are  such  a  strange  child ! '  said  Mrs.  Vale,  as  she 
disappeared  within  the  house ;  and  I  thought  as  much. 
I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Manning,  I'd  break  her  of  some  of  her 
hoydenish  ways  if  I  had  her  to  deal  with." 

Such,- in  substance,  was  the  conversation  held  between 
two  neighbors  of  the  little  village  of  Ellsville,  in  the 
old  Empire  State,  one  pleasant  summer  morning  some 
twenty  years  ago.  Mrs.  Roland  was  a  leader  among  the 
fashionables ;  and  Mrs.  Manning  the  wife  of  the  wealthi- 
est man  in  the  place,  and,  though  making  no  preten- 
sions, was  rather  looked  up  to  on  -that  account.  And  now 
of  Alice  Vale  and  "  Crazy  Pete,"  or  Peter  Stiverton : 
who  and  what  were  they  ? 

Of  Alice  and  her  disposition  we  have  already  learned 
something.  Her  parents,  like  thousands  of  others,  had 
once  figured  in  ths  mercantile  world  of  a  great  city, 
failed,  and,  having  removed  to  this  little  village,  were 
trying  life  on  a  more  humble  scale.  Mrs.  Vale,  a  quiet, 
dreamy  sort  of  a  woman,  had  never  been  a  favorite  in 
the  world  of  fashion,  in  which  she  might  have  moved 
when  wealth  was  theirs,  had  she  so  chosen ;  but  here 
she  had  the  good  sense  to  perceive,  that,  if  she  retired 
into  herself  the  same  as  formerly,  it  would  be  mistaken 
by  those  among  whom  her  lot  was  now  cast  as  city 
pride.  She  therefore  strove  to  make  herself  as  agreea- 
ble as  possible,  and  so  far  succeeded  as  to  be  well  liked 
by  the  villagers. 

The  family,  when  they  came  to  the  place,  consisted  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vale  and  three  children,  —  Alice  and  two 
sons,  —  one  older  and  the  other  younger  than  she  was. 
The  youngest  one  was  drowned  in  a  neighboring  pond 


14  ALICE   VALE. 

soon  after  they  came  there ;  and  the  elder  one  had  left 
home  in  a  fit  of  anger,  some  eighteen  months  previous, 
and  had  not  been  heard  of  since  ;  that  is,  not  directly, 
though  the  ship  in  which  he  was  supposed  to  have 
sailed  had  been  reported  lost,  and  he  was  mourned  by 
his  friends  as  dead.  Thus  at  the  time  our  story  com- 
mences there  was  only  Alice  left:  consequently  the 
affections  of  her  parents  naturally  centered  in  her, 
making  them  very  anxious  that  she  should  do  and  be 
all  that  their  fond  hearts  could  desire. 

Alice,  wild,  wayward,  thoughtless,  —  so  the  mother 
believed  ;  but,  could  she  have  read  the  thoughts  that 
welled  up  in  her  child's  heart,  she  Would  have  formed 
quite  a  different  opinion.  As  she  could  not  do  this,  she 
judged  from  the  external,  and  from  the  opinions  of 
those  about  her,  and  grieved  in  her  soul  lest  this,  her 
only  remaining  one,  should  not  be  all  that  she  could 
wish. 

"  Was  she  a  bad  child  ?  "  you  ask. 

No:  not  bad;  but  she  cared  for  none  of  those  things 
that  interested  other  girls  of  her  age.  It  mattered  not 
to  her  whether  her  clothes  were  in  fashion,  or  no.  If 
she  was  invited  to  parties,  picnics,  and  the  like,  all 
right :  still,  she  seldom  attended  them ;  and,  if  not 
invited,  she  never  noticed  the  omission. 

She  would  make  the  strangest,  wisest  speeches,  and 
then  romp  with  her  kitten,  or  play  with  her  doll,  with 
as  much  earnestness  and  zest  of  enjoyment  as  though 
she  had  been  but  six  instead  of  fifteen  years  of  age ;  and 
no  amount  of  persuasion,  argument,  or  ridicule,  could 
tempt  her  to  throw  aside  her  childish  pleasures. 

"  She  didn't  feel  like  a  y  ung  lady,"  she  said,  "  and 


CHILDHOOD.  15 

she  didn't  want  to  be  one  :  if  she  trie( ,  she  would  only 
make  a  fool  of  herself;  and  she  just  wished  they  would 
let  her  alone."  The  only  one  whose  company  she 
really  seemed  to  care  for  was  "  Crazy  Pete,"  as  he  was 
called  ;  and,  when  rallied  upon  her  preference,  she  would 
stoutly  maintain  that  he  was  not  crazy,  —  that  he  knew 
more  than  others,  and  that  was  why  they  called  him  so. 

She  would  wander  with  him  through  the  fields, 
woods,  and  by  the  creek-side  for  hours,  when  permitted 
to  do  so,  and  never  seemed  happier  than  when  by  his 
side,  listening  to  his  quaint  remarks  about  the  shells, 
pebbles,  and  flowers  that  were  found  in  their  path. 
Once  her  parents  forbade  her  going  where  he  was,  or 
having  any  thing  to  say  to  him  if  she  chanced  to  meet 
him ;  but  she  cried  herself  sick,  and  they  were  obliged 
to  remove  the  prohibition.  And  now  who  was  Crazy 
Pete? 

Pause,  kind  reader,  and,  as  you  hear  the  reply,  won- 
der not  that  Alice  Vale  was  a  grief  to  her  parents, 
ignored  by  her  companions,  and  treated  to  a  general 
shake  of  the  head  by  the  community  at  large.  Crazy 
Pete  was  a  pauper,  and  the  son  of  a  poor  woman  who 
had  come  into  the  neighborhood  about  the  time  of  his 
birth,  and  of  whom  nothing  was  known  further  than  "  it 
was  supposed  that  she  had  never  been  married." 

This  of  itself  was  enough  to  condemn  him  to  infamy : 
but,  when  you  added  to  this  the  fact  that  he  was  counted 
insane,  surely  a  girl  of  fifteen  who  could  prefer  his 
society  to  that  of  all  others  gave  her  parents  cause  for 
sorrow ;  and  a  watchful  community  did  we,l  to  shake 
the  head,  and  wonder  what  would  be  the  result. 

O  vainly  wise  world  !  how  little  thou  knowest  of  the 


16  ALICE  VALE. 

secret  springs  of  action,  of  the  wisdom  that  prepares 
its  instruments  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  progres- 
sive changes  that  must  come  to  the  race  in  answer  to 
its  own  prayers  and  aspirations  ! 

O  foolishly  judging  world !  noting  effects  instead  of 
causes.  One  in  ancient  times  truly  said,  that  "  the 
wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness  with  God ; "  and  it 
is  equally  true  that  the  wisdom  of  God  is  foolishness 
with  the  world. 

But  let  us  look  into  the  nature  of  Peter  Stiverton's 
insanity,  if,  indeed,  it  was  such ;  let  us  trace  some  of  its 
causes :  but,  to  do  this,  we  must  go  back  somewhere  nea" 
another  score  of  years,  —  must  go  back  to  the  mothe.' 
who  bore  him,  to  the  father  whose  villainy  broke  hei 
heart,  checked  its  warm  life-currents,  and  sent  her  to 
the  angel  world  for  consolation,  for  sympathetic  healing 
from  earth's  cruel  wrongs. 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.          17 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE   WOLF    AND   THE   LAMB. 

OVELY  Marion,  darling  Marion  Sloan, 
though  dwelling  in  the  vale  of  poverty, 
she  possessed  the  qualities  that  won  love 
from  all  who  knew  her.  All  her  life  long 
she  had  lived  in  the  little  cottage  which 
stood  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  grandest  of  the  Green 
Mountains ;  all  her  life  had  she  been  familiar  with  its 
rugged  paths,  its  deep  gorges,  and  its  sunny  nooks ;  had 
watched  the  birds  from  year  to  year  as  they  built  their 
nests  in  the  little  grove  at  the  right  of  their  humble 
dwelling :  had  listened  summer  after  summer  to  the 

CD    * 

music  of  the  rippling  brook,  and  had  long  since  learned 
where  the  choicest  grapes  were  to  be  found.  But,  most 
of  all,  she  loved  to  sit  at  evening  in  the  cottage-door, 
and,  looking  across  the  corner  of  a  ledge  of  rock,  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  church-spire  in  the  village  beyond,  just 
as  the  sun  was  flinging  his  last  backward  glance  upon 
the  valley.  In  such  an  hour  as  this,  she  fancied  that 
she  could  almost  see  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and 
descending  thereon,  even  as  they  did  upon  Jacob's  lad- 
der in  olden  time. 

She  was  the  child  of  many  prayers,  and  the  last  of 
seven,  the  others  sleeping  in  the  quiet  resting-place  for 
the  dead  that  lay  just  behind  their  humble  place  of  wor- 
ship;  and  for  two  years  the  mother  had  lain  beside  them. 


18  ALICE  VALE. 

Yes :  she  was  a  child  of  many  prayers,  and  a  prayerful 
child,  or  woman,  as  we  must  now  call  her ;  for  eighteen 
summers  had  shed  their  light  upon  her  brown  hair,  and 
given  the  hue  of  health  to  her  rounded  cheek. 

Earnestly  —  oh,  how  earnestly  !  —  had  her  parents 
plead  with  Father  God  that  he  would  spare  them  this, 
their  last  remaining  one,  and  make  her  a  blessing  to  their 
old  age,  —  would  spare  her,  and  make  her  his  own  by  a 
life  that  should  manifest  his  glory,  instead  of  taking  her 
to  himself  in  childhood,  as  he  had  the  others. 

She  was  spared ;  and  the  aroma  of  piety  surrounded 
her  as  naturally  as  fragrance  emanates  from  the  rose : 
while  each  rock,  bird,  and  bee,  and  indeed  all  with 
which  she  came  in  contact,  awoke  emotions  of  rever- 
ence, and  sent  the  incense  of  devotion  upward  from  the 
pure  altar  of  her  heart.  The  mother  died  blessing  God 
*  for  this,  to  her,  visible  answer  to  her  prayers ;  and  the 
father  continued  the  paean  of  praise  as  he  watched  the 
outgoings  and  incomings  of  his  child  from  day  to  day. 

"  Morn  amid  the  mountains, 

Lovely  solitude, 
Gushing  streams  and  fountains, 

Murmur,  God  is  good." 

And  the  heart  of  the  aged  man  echoed,  "  God  h  good ; " 
but  could  he  have  truly  realized  that,  — 

Every  thrill  of  anguish, 

Could  we  see  the  why, 
Utters  the  same  language 

To  the  earth  and  sky ; 
Every  pang  of  sorrow 

Rightly  understood, 
Every  bitter  trial, 

Murmurs,  "  God  is"  good." 


THE   WOLF  AND   THE  LAMB.  19 

he  would  not  have  died  broken  hearted  in  tbe  dark 
days  that  followed. 

Marion  Sloan  was  not  only  beloved  by  all,  Wt  she 
was  looked  upon  as  peculiarly  favored  of  the  Lcrd;  for 
at  the  time  she  had  united  with  the  church,  some  six 
months  before  her  mother's  death,  she  had  fallen  into  a 
sort  of  trance,  and  lay  for  hours  in  a  state  that  many 
supposed  to  be  death.  Even  her  father  had  given  her 
up,  and,  but  for  his  wife,  would  have  permitted  prepara- 
tions for  her  funeral  to  have  been  made  ;  but  the  mother 
still 'insisted  that  Marion  was  not  dead.  Just  at  this 
juncture,  she  came  back  to  consciousness,  and  said  that 
she  had  been  to  heaven,  —  had  seen  her  brothers  and 
sisters  there,  and  others  that  she  had  known  when  they 
were  here. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  they  were  your  brothers  and 
sisters,  as  you  never  knew  them  while  here  ?  "  asked  the 
minister. 

"  They  told  me  they  were,"  she  quietly  replied ;  "  and, 
if  they  had  not,  I  should  have  known  it,  for  I  could  read 
their  very  thoughts."  Those  who  stood  around  looked 
at  one  another  in  silence,  while  Deacon  Smith  murmured, 

"  The  very  intents  and  purposes  of  the  heart  shall  be 
made  known." 

"  But  did  you  see  Jesus  ?  "  asked  her  mother. 

u  That  is  right,  sister,"  said  the  deacon :  "  it  shows 
that  your  heart  is  in  the  right  place,  for  there  can  be  no 
heaven  without  Jesus."  But  Marion  only  smiled,  and 
said,  "  I  must  not,  or,  rather,  I  can  not,  tell  all  I  saw ; 
for  I  have  not  the  language  to  express  it,  and,  beside, 
they  told  me  that  I  must  not  try." 

From  this  time  forth,  she  used  frequently  to  speak  of 


20  ALICE   VALE. 

seeing  different  ones  who  were  dead,  as  the  wo  'Id  calls 
dead.  A  few  shook  their  heads,  and  touched  their  fore- 
he  ads  ;  but  hy  most  of  the  people  she  was  looked  upon  as 
one  peculiarly  favored  of  Heaven.  It  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  they  asserted ;  for,  like  Samuel  of  old,  she 
had  been  devoted  to  God  from  her  birth,  and  her  whole 
life  had  been  but  a  fulfillment  of  the  vows  made  for  her 
at  the  baptismal  font. 

After  her  mother's  death,  Marion  would  sometimes 
tell  of  seeing  her;  but  latterly  she  had  not  seen  her 
mother  nor  any  one  else,  or  else  had  become  very  "reti- 
cent upon  the  subject,  for  she  had  spoken  of  nothing  of 
the  kind  for  some  months.  Mrs.  Sloan  had  been  an 
invalid  for  some  time  previous  to  her  death;  and  her 
sickness  had  involved  them  in  considerable  expense,  while 
the  old  gentleman's  rheumatism  rendered  him  unable  to 
earn  very  much.  This,  with  other  things,  had  made 
them  poor,  and  kept  them  so;  but  they  retained  their 
cow,  had  their  garden,  and,  with  Marion's  help,  raised  a 
few  potatoes,  and  corn  enough  to  fatten  a  pig.  This,  with 
odd  jobs  that  Marion  did  for  a  neighbor's  wife,  and  a 
little  cobbling  by  her  father  for  the  neighbors'  boys, 
served  to  keep  them  quite  comfortable. 

But  crops  sometimes  fail,  as  we  all  know ;  and  this 
was  the  case  in  the  summer  of ,  in  the  reoion  of 

'  O 

•  country  where  the  Sloans  dwelt.  Late  frosts  had  de- 
stroyed much  of  the  promise  of  spring ;  the  summer 
months  had  been  so  unusually  wet  that  things  could  not 
grow  ;  while  autumn  set  in  dry  and  cold,  so  that  .dto- 
gether  the  prospect  for  the  coming  winter  was  any  thing 
but  inviting,  even  to  the  better  class  of  farmers,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  poor.  It  was  just  at  this  juncture  that 


THE   WOLF  AND   THE  LAMB.  21 

a  stranger  called  at  the  Sloan  cottage  one  pleasant  after- 
noon, and  asked  for  a  glass  of  water,  and  the  privilege  of 
resting  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  Ma- 
rion, go  and  bring  some  fresh  from  the  spring;  or,  sir, 
would  you  not  prefer  a  glass  of  milk  ?  " 

"  That  would  indeed  be  a  treat,"  was  the  reply ;  and 
accordingly  the  milk  was  brought,  while  the  gentleman 
cast  upon  the  fair  girl  a  look  of  such  undisguised  admi- 
ration, that  she  shrank  away,  and  left  her  father  to  enter- 
tain him.  And,  more  than  this,  she  felt  an  aversion  to- 
ward him  at  first  sight,  that  surprised  even  herself,  the 
emotion  was  so  new  and  strange.  Hitherto  the  feel- 
ings of  her  heart  had  flowed  out  toward  all  in  love  and 
kindness ;  and  why  should  she  thus  shrink  from  this 
stranger  ? 

"  Surely,  it  was  wrong,  —  a  temptation  from  the  evil 
one  ;  for  did  not  God  command  us  to  be  kind  to  the 
stranger  within  the  gate  ?  yes,  it  was  wrong,  and  she 
would  banish  it  from  her  heart." 

It  was  thus  that  she  reasoned ;  but,  instead  of  return- 
ing to  the  house,  she  went  still  farther  away  to  a  se- 
cluded spot  among  the  rocks,  where,  humbly  kneeling, 
she  strove  to  plead  with  the  good  Father  in  heaven  for 
assistance.  Alas  for  short-sighted  mortals!  refusing  to 
accept  nature's  true  method,  the  warning  voice  within, 
and  at  the  same  time  calling  to  something  without  and 
beyond  them  for  aid.  God  no  more  certainly  spake  to 
Moses  in  the  burning-bush  than  he  did  to  the  heart  of 
this  poor  maiden,  had  she  only  heard  and  heeded  ;  but 
she  mistook  it  for  the  voice  of  an  enemy,  and  so  t  irned 
away  from  listening. 


22  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Why  should  she  feel  thus  toward  this  stranger  ?  " 
thus  she  still  questioned, — questioned  instead  of  praying ; 
for  when  she  had  reached  her  chosen  place  of  retire- 
ment, and,  kneeling,  strove  to  pray,  she  could  find  no 
words  in  which  to  prefer  her  petition,  but  could  only 
question  and  wonder. 

"  Why  should  she  feel  thus  toward  this  stranger  ?  he 
was  young,  fine  looking,  pleasant  and  genial  in  his  man- 
ners, well  calculated  in  every  way  to  win  instead  of 
repelling.  It  was  all  wrong,  she  was  sure  it  was ;  and 
how  could  she  approach  God  while  shrinking  from  her 
duty  ?  Of  course  she  could  not :  she  would  go  back  to 
the  house,  and  help  her  father  to  entertain  their  tem- 
porary guest. 

The  traveler,  in  the  mean  time,  found  one  pretext 
after  another  to  continue  the  conversation,  hoping  there- 
by to  gain  another  glimpse  of  the  fair  vision  that  had 
greeted  him  at  his  entrance. 

Finally,  as  he  arose  to  go,  he  asked  Mr.  Sloan  if  he 
could  direct  him  to  a  good,  quiet  boarding-place.  "  I 
am  here,"  said  he,  "  for  health  and  recreation.  I  am 
traveling  under  the  patronage  of  a  friend,  who  furnishes 
the  means  upon  condition  that  I  bring  back  some  sketch- 
es of  the  finest  views  that  I  can  obtain  of  your  grand 
old  mountains  ;  and  I  have  seen  none  as  yet  equal  to  the 
one  here  from  your  door." 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  young  friend,  just  what  you 
want,  or  whether,  with  your  city  habits,  you  could  be 
suited  with  our  plain  people  and  their  common  fare. 
We  have  been  having  hard  times  up  here,  and  the  pros- 
pect ahead  is  no  better,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a 
sigh  ;  "  but  if  you  could  be  comfortable  anywhere  in  the 


THE   WOLF  AND   THE  LAMB.  23 

place,  it  would  be  at  the  Widow  Brown's,  in  the  stone 
house  beyond  the  church." 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  if  you  think  I 
should  be  hard  to  please,  you  are  mistaken.  I  lived  in 
the  country  myself  the  earlier  portion  of  my  life  :  my 
father  owned  a  small,  rocky  farm,  and  we  had  to  work 
hard  to  earn  a  livelihood.  When  I  was  about  fifteen,  an 
uncle  left  me  a  small  sum  of  money ;  and  then,  with  my 
father's  consent,  I  went  to  the  city  in  order  to  gratify 
the  desire  that  I  had  always  felt,  —  that  of  becoming  an 
artist ;  but  my  means  are  so  limited,  that  I  should  not 
have  dared  to  indulge  myself  in  this  trip,  though  need- 
ing the  recreation,  but  for  the  kindness  of  the  friend 
aforesaid.  But  why  not  let  me  stop  with  you  ?  You 
seem  to  have  but  a  small  family,  and  it  would  be  so 
quiet :  I  am  sure  I  should  like  nothing  better. 

"  I  hardly  think  it  possible  ;  but  I  will  talk  with  my 
daughter  about  it.  Marion,  Marion,  where  are  you  ?  " 
he  called ;  and,  receiving  no  reply,  exclaimed,  "•  Why, 
where  has  the  child  gone  !  I  never  knew  her  to  do  the 
like  ;  but  you  must  pardon  her,  sir,  for  this  seeming  lack 
of  courtesy,  as  she  is  not  much  accustomed  to  seeing 
strangers,  and  is  somewhat  timid." 

"  No  offense,"  replied  the  gentleman,  smiling  inward- 
ly at  the  deference  paid  him  by  the  simple-hearted  old 
man,  —  no  offense,  sir.  I  will  go  to  the  village  and  make 
a  few  inquiries,  ascertain  if  there  are  any  letters  for  me 
in  the  office,  and  then  return  for  your  answer.  That 
will  give  you  time  to  talk  with  your  daughter  without 
the  embarrassment  of  my  presence :  you  have  a  public 
house  in  the  village,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  a  good  one  for  these  parts." 


24  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Good-evening,  then,  for  the  present ;  "  and,  t  Jdng 
up  his  portfolio,  he  walked  briskly  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated. The  old  man  watched  his  retreating  form  till  it 
was  lost  beyond  the  point  of  rocks  before  spoken  of;  and 
then,  as  he  turned  to  take  his  accustomed  seat,  Marion 
came  in  from  the  back  way. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  child  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Just  up  the  mountain  a  little  way  :  has  the  gentle- 
man gone  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  he  is  coming  back  again :  what  do  you 
suppose  he  wants,  Marion  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell,  father." 

"  Well,  he  thinks  of  stopping  a  while  in  the  place,  and 
wants  to  board  here." 

"  O  father  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  a  shiver  ran  through 
her  frame  :  you  did  not  tell  him  that  he  might  come  ?  " 

"  No :  I  told  him  that  I  Avould  talk  with  you  first ;  but 
why  not  take  him  ?  We  have  the  spare  room  that  he 
could  occupy :  you  are  a  good  cook  ;  and  I  see  nothing 
to  prevent." 

"  O  father !  I  don't  know  why ;  but  I  feel  as  if  he 
must  not  come,  —  as  if  there  was  something  wrong." 

"  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged,"  said  the  old 
man  solemnly. 

"  I  know  it,  father ;  and  '  Be  kind  to  the  stranger  that 
is  within  thy  gate,'  is  another  of  the  commands  of  that 
holy  book.  And  yet  I  do  not  feel  kindly  toward  this 
stranger,  —  did  not  from  the  first :  I  can  not  tell  why 
it  is." 

"  A  temptation  of  Satan,  my  child :  you  are  young, 
as  yet,  in  the  Christian  race ;  and  he  would  try  you. 
Pray  God  that  your  faith  fail  not." 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.          25 

"  Indeed,  father,  I  feared  it  was  thus  ;  and  I  have  been 
out  to  study  and  pray  over  it :  but  the  feeling  does  not 
leave  me.  O  father !  perhaps  it  is  a  warning ;  for  I 
never  felt  so  toward  human  being  before." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  old  man  thoughtfully.  Marion's 
eye  brightened.  "  Then  we  surely  ought  to  heed  it,"  she 
said.  But  the  scanty  crops  and  the  wants  of  the  coming 
winter  rose  before  the  father's  vision  ;  and  he  replied,  — 

"  No,  no :  it  can  not  be  that ;  for  it  was  only  to  day 
that  I  was  wondering  where  our  winter  supplies  were 
coming  from.  Let  us  rather  think,  my  daughter,  that 
the  Lord  has  sent  him  to  rebuke  my  want  of  faith  ;  in 
that  case,  if  we  do  not  accept  what  is  thus  put  into  our 
hands,  what  warrant  have  we  of  his  further  care  ?  " 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  it  in  that  light,"  said  Marion 
sadly.  "  You  have  had  more  experience  than  I  have,  and 
are  more  likely  to  be  in  the  right.  I  will  try  to  over- 
come these  feelings ;  and,  if  you  think  it  best  to  have  him 
stop  with  us  a  while,  will  do  what  I  can  to  make  things 
pleasant  for  him." 

"  But  I  do  not  wish  to  do  any  thing  that  will  make 
you  unhappy,  my  child." 

"  Never  mind  me,  father :  you  have  always  told  me 
that  true  happiness  could  be  found  only  in  doing  one's 
duty  faithfully.  I  shall  be  happy  enough  if  I  feel  that 
I  am  doing  right."  And  so  the  matter  was  settled  in 
favor  of  the  stranger's  remaining. 

Something   over  an  hour  after  the  above  conversa- 

O 

tion,  the  young  man  returned  from  the  village  to  learn 
the  result  of  his  application. 

"Has  your  daughter  not  returned  yet?"  he  asked, 
glancing  around  the  room,  and  not  seeing  Marion. 


26  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Oh,  yes !  she  came  in  just  after  you  left :  she  is  not 
far  avvaj*,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Anl  what  have  I  to  hope  from  her  decision,  Mr. 


"  Sloan  is  my  name,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  And  mine  is  Munson,  —  Philip  Munson." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Munson,  we  have  decided,  that,  if  you 
can  put  up  with  our  poor  accommodations,  you  can  stop 
with  us  for  a  while." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  said  the  young  man  with  an 
alacrity  that  showed  he  was  truly  pleased  ;  and  again  his 
eye  went  in  search  of  Marion. 

She,  poor  girl,  must  have  felt  his  approach  ;  for  she 
certainly  could  not  have  seen  him.  Just  before  he 
came  around  the  ledge  of  rocks  that  hid  the  village  from 
them,  she  felt  the  same  shudder  running  through  her 
frame  that  she  had  experienced  before ;  and,  quickly 
leaving  the  house,  she  found  herself  some  rods  up  the 
mountain  before  she  thought  what  she  Avas  doing.  "  This 
will  never  do,"  she  said,  as  she  came  to  herself,  —  "  this 
will  never  do ;  "  and,  retracing  her  steps,  she  entered  the 
cottage  just  after  the  stranger  had  sent  his  second  glance 
in  search  of  her. 

"  Mr.  Munson,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Sloan,  as  she 
came  in ;  "  finding  that  he  is  to  stop  with  us  a  while,  he 
has  favored  us  with  his  name." 

The  young  man  bowed  low ;  while  she,  in  as  cheerful 
tones  as  she  could  command,  bade  him  "  good  evening." 

"  And  a  very  beautiful  evening  it  is,"  he  \yas  about 
to  add  ;  but  something  in  her  look  checked  him  and  he 
nmained  silent. 

Marion  passed  a  restless  night,  and  looked  so  sad  the 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.          27 

next  m  rniing,  and  that  in  spite  of  her  too  evident  at- 
tempts to  appear  cheerful,  that  her  father  was  troubled 
by  it.  "  My  child,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  had  the  op- 
portunity of  speaking  with  her  alone,  "  is  the  presence 
of  this  stranger  really  making  you  unhappy  ?  " 

"  O  father !  "  she  replied,  bursting  into  tears,  "  I 
can  not  help  it :  indeed  I  can  not.  I  try  to  tlu'nk  it  all 
right ;  but  the  feeling  that  it  is  so  will  not  come.  I 
wish  that  we  had  not  consented  to  take  him.  I  saw 
mother  last  night,  and  she  looked  so  sorrowful." 

"  Saw  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  as  plainly  as  I  ever  saw  her  in  life." 

"Tut,  tut:  you  make  too  much  of  these  visions  of 
yours,  as  you  call  them.  You  make  too  much  account 
of  them :  they  will  lead  you  astray  yet.  You  were 
dreaming,  and  thought  you  saw  her." 

"  No,  father :  I  was  as  wide  awake  as  ever  I  was." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that  you  think  so":  but  the  idea  that 
your  mother  should  leave  her  home  in  glory,  and  come 
here  to  be  saddened  by  the  affairs  of  this  life,  is  simply 
preposterous  :  and  not  only  that,  but  wicked  ;  for  where 
would  be  the  rest  promised  to  the  people  of  God  if 
this  were  the  case  ?  " 

"  Alas !  I  know  not,  dear  father  :  it  is  all  a  mystery  to 
me  ;  but  I  know  what  I  see,"  she  replied  sadly,  as  she 
turned  to  her  accustomed  duties. 

The  morning  passed  quickly.  Mr.  Munson  spent  it 
in  looking  about  the  valley,  and  in  ascending  the  moun- 
tain some  distance  at  several  points,  to  find,  as  he  said, 
the  best  views,  intending  to  sketch  them  at  his  leisure. 

He  talked  of  this  with  the  old  gentleman  while  at 
dinner,  scarcely  addressing  a  remark  to  Marion  till  the 


28  ALICE   VALE. 

meal  was   nearly  finished,  when,  turning   to  her,  he 
said,  — 

"  Perhaps,  Miss  Sloan,  you  would  favor  me  by  point- 
ing out  some  of  the  places  from  whence  choice  views 
can  be  had?  I  am  sure  I  am  not  mistaken  in  be- 
lieving that  you  have  an  eye  for  the  beautiful." 

"  The  view  that  pleases  me  best  is  from  our  west 
window,"  said  she  quietly ;  "  and  that  just  as  the  sun 
flings  his  last  glance  upon  the  village-steeple." 

"  And  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  show  to  me  the  ex- 
act position  in  which  the  best  effect  can  be  obtained  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  will,"  she  replied  in  a  tone  which  showed  that 
she  shrank  from  further  conversation  ;  and,  dinner  over, 
the  gentleman  retired  to  his  room.  Taking  a  privilege 
that  he  would  hardly  have  been  willing  to  grant,  we 
will  follow  him  thither ;  for,  by  so  doing,  we,  perhaps, 
may  ascertain  if  there  is  really  any  foundation  for 
Marion's  dislike. 

See !  he  has  taken  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  seems  to 
be  writing  a  letter.  We  will  peep  over  his  shoulder,  and 
learn  for  ourselves :  — 

EATON,  Sept.  9. 

Hail,  friend  and  fellow-craftsmen  of  the  Lodge  of 
Loyal  Brothers  to  the  idea  of  doing  as  you  please  ! 

A  long  prefix,  Mark ;  but  I  think  it  expresses  your 
character  and  mine,  to  say  the  least.  True,  there  are 
many  things  in  the  way,  —  much  that  tends  to  prevent 
our  living  out  the  full  spirit  of  our  creed ;  but  we  must 
expect  to  be  tried.  It  is  only  the  brave  and  persistent 
ones  that  w  n  in  a  race  like  this;  and,  if  we  meet  with 
opposition,  i/e  must  learn  to  be  as  wise  as  serpents,  and 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.          29 

as  harmless  as — as — cl— Is.  I  would  write  the  whole 
word,  but  it  would  no;  look  well  on  paper;  and  you 
well  know  that  looks  go  a  great  way  toward  success. 
As  you  are  pretty  good  at  deciphering  abreviations, 
I  think  that  you  can  make  out  my  meaning  without  much 
trouble. 

"But  where  is  Eaton  ?  "  I  hear  you  ask. 

"  Here,  right  here,  my  good  brother,  in  the  shadow 
of  one  of  the  tallest  of  the  Green  Mountains  ;  and  close 
to  the  village  is  a  rural  retreat,  where  a  rheumatic  old 
man  resides  with  his  pretty  daughter ;  and  snugly  es- 
consced  in  that  retreat  is  your  humble  servant.  Zounds ! 
could  I  have  carried  out  my  principles,  I  should,  'ere 
this,  have  given  this  mountain-nymph  some  strong  proofs 
of  my  affection  for  her  lovely  self.  I  shall  do  it  some 
day.  Mind,  I  say  I  shall;  and  you  know  me  well 
enough  to  have  learned  that  I  have  stricken  the  word 

& 

fail  from  my  vocabulary. 

She  evidently  dislikes  me,  but  I  care  not  for  that : 
the  harder  the  task,  the  more  glorious  the  success.  I 
shall  have  to  play  shy,  however,  —  shy,  pious,  and  all  of 
that,  which  you  know  I  can  do  to  perfection. 

But  enough  of  this  till  I  can  report  further  progress. 
They  believe  me  to  be  a  poor  artist,  depending  upon  the 
money  that  a  rich  friend  pays  me  for  my  sketches.  Ha, 
ha,  ha !  isn't  that  rich  ?  Don't  let  any  one  know  where 
I  am  till  the  excitement  about  that  last  little  affair  blows 
over ;  and  don't  write  till  you  hear  from  me  again. 

Yours,  &c.,  PHILIP. 

And  thus  we  learn  what  manner  of  man  it  was  that 
had  found  a  place  in  the  home  of  the  Sloans.  With 


30  ALICE   VALE. 

the  revealings  and  demonstrations  of  modern  Spiritual- 
ism to  aid  us,  wo  can  readily  see  why  it  was  that  Marion 
shrank  from  his  presence,  and  why  the  spirit-mother 
looked  sad.  We  can  see  also  to  what  power  Munson 
trusted  for  success,  —  the  power  of  a  strong  will,  acting 
upon  a  susceptible  organization,  or,  as  we  say,  psychologi- 
cally. He  probably  knew  it  not  by  that  name  ;  but  he 
knew  its  power. 

Had  Marion  and  her  father  known  what  we  know, 
they  would  have  heeded  the  warning  given ;  but,  lacking 
this,  they  passed  on  and  suffered. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  weeks  Munson  said  but 
little  to  Marion,  further  than  common  politeness  re- 
quired, unless  occasion  offered  to  ask  a  favor,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  best  view.  Whenever  this  occurred,  he 
was  sure  to  avail  himself  of  it ;  but  he  sometimes  fixed 
upon  her  a  sad,  reproachful  look,  as  if  conscious  of  her 
aversion,  and  deprecating  its  existence. 

This  could  not  fail  to  have  its  effect  upon  a  nature 
like  her's,  —  a  nature  that  would  not  knowingly  wrong 
the  least  of  God's  creatures ;  and,  accusing  herself  of 
injustice,  she  would  strive  to  make  amends  by  pleasant 
smiles,  and  redoubled  attention  to  his  wants.  Under  the 
influence  of  efforts  like  these,  her  aversion  gradually 
wore  away,  till  she  came,  at  length,  to  wonder  that  she 
had  ever  felt  any. 

In  the  mean  time,  this  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing  was 
not  idle.  Steadily  he  toiled  toward  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  purpose ;  storming  the  outposts,  and  work- 
ing his  way  gradually  toward  the  citadel.  He  talked 
theology  to  Mr.  Sloan,  agreeing  with  him  on  just  the 
points  that  would  please  the  old  man  most;  listened 


THE   WOLF  AND   THE  LAMB.  31 

deferentially  to  the  minister,  and  made  the  deacons  be- 
lieve that  he  wls  almost  persuaded  to  study  for  the 
ministry  himself,  only  the  sacredness  of  the  office,  and 
a  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  prevented. 

But  why  follow  the  serpentine  windings  of  this  hu- 
man fiend  ?  —  fiend  through  the  false  teachings,  and  con- 
sequent false  customs,  of  society,  —  why  follow  him  step 
by  step  as  he  nears  his  victim  ?  We  will  not  attempt 
further  to  portray  the  hellish  arts  by  means  of  which  he 
triumphed  ;  for  our  soul  sickens  at  the  recital.  Suffice 
it  to  say,  that  he  made  good  his  boast,  and  left  the  roof 
that  had  sheltered  him  with  its  most  treasured  inmate 
betrayed,  ruined  so  far  as  this  life  was  concerned. 

True,  she  believed  herself  wedded  to  him,  —  that  in 
three  months  at  most,  perhaps  in  as  many  weeks,  he 
would  return  and  acknowledge  her  before  the  world. 
This  he  had  solemnly  pledged  himself  to  do ;  for,  with  all 
his  boasted  power  over  woman,  he  dared  not  even  make 
the  attempt  to  lead  her  other  than  through  Hymen's 
pathway. 

But  the  torch,  it  was  a  false  one, 
Held  by  hands  as  basely  false : 
Power  assumed  by  one  who  had  none,  — 
Priestly  robe  and  saintly  face. 

Yet  even  here  he  had  so  covered  his  tracks,  that  she 
could  not  show  this  much  to  be  true,  —  not  a  trace  to 
serve  in  the  eyes  of  her  friends  as  a  palliation  for  her 
condition. 

When  Philip  Munson  left  the  village  of  Eaton,  he 
had  played  the  hypocrite  so  successfully,  that  he  carried 
with  him  the  hearts  of  both  young  and  old ;  and  Marion, 
as  she  listened  to  his  praises,  was  for  a  time  happy.  But 


82  ALICE  VALE. 

gradually  the  psychological  glamor  that  had  been  thrown 
around  her  began  to  fade ;  her  old  aversion  came  back, 
and  with  it  the  most  terrible  doubts.  She  continued 
to  hope,  however,  till  the  extreme  limit  of  the  time  set 
for  his  return  had  passed :  then  doubt  gave  place  to  a 
feeling  akin  to  despair. 

And  how  fared  it  with  this  poor  lamb  in  the  church 
of  which  she  was  so  loved  a  member  ?  Did  they  stand 
by  her  in  pitying  sympathy  in  this  the  hour  of  her 
sorest  need  ?  Far  from  it.  The  sheep  that  went  not 
astray  met  in  solemn  conclave,  and  expelled  her  from 
their  fold.  Even  the  father  who  had  argued  so  strongly 
against  the  aversion  she  had  felt  toward  the  stranger  as 
to  gain  her  consent  that  he  should  become  an  inmate 
of  their  home,  —  even  he  said  that  there  was  no  excuse 
for  her  sin,  and,  cursing  her  for  dishonoring  his  gray 
hairs,  took  to  his  bed  a  broken-hearted  man,  leaving  it 
only  for  the  grave. 

Left  alone  with  her  mighty  sorrow,  Marion's  only 
consolation  was  in  those  visions  that  had  once  been 
looked  upon  as  evidence  of  God's  favor,  but  were  now 
considered  proof  of  insanity  by  some,  and  of  willful  de- 
ception by  others.  She  thinks  thus  to  gain  sympathy, 
they  said  ;  but  she  has  shown  herself  toe  vile,  too  des- 
perately wicked,  to  be  trusted  at  all.  And  thus  the 
pressure  became  stronger  and  stronger. 

Helpless  and  despised,  left  a  pauper  to  be  cared  for 
in  her  approaching  hour  of  trial  by  those  who  would 
have  no  sympathy  for  her  whatever,  —  the  places  where 
she  had  wandered  with  her  betrayer,  the  scenes  that 
she  had  looked  upon  from  childhood,  and  the  faces  she 
had  always  known,  becoming  hateful  to  her,  the  poor 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.          33 

girl  could  bet  r  it  no  longer.  Reason  at  last  really 
gave  way,  while  the  idea  of  escaping  from  all  she  had 
ever  known  took  full  possession  of  her  mind.  With  a 
maniac's  cunning,  she  laid  her  plans,  and  carried  them 
out  so  effectually  that  the  people  of  Eaton  never  knew 
what  became  of  her.  Yea,  even  some  of  those  who 
had  once  been  loudest  in  commendation,  going  to  the 
opposite  extreme,  said  that  the  devil  had  helped  her 


In  the  mean  time,  the  little  village  in  which  our  story- 
opens  was  startled  one  July  morning  with  the  report 
that  a  young  and  beautiful  woman  had  been  found  on 
Deacon  Smith's  doorstep  in  a  condition  that  demanded 
immediate  assistance. 

Who  was  she  ?  and  from  whence  did  she  come  ?  were 
the  questions  that  flew  from  lip  to  lip  :  but  no  one  could 
answer  them,  for  none  knew  ;  and  all  that  they  ever 
learned  of  her  was  what  transpired  in  the  few  days  that 
she  lived  after  she  came  among  them.  They  saw  that 
her  mind  was  unsettled  ;  but  whether  it  had  been  caused 
by  trouble,  or  otherwise,  they  could  not  tell.  She  said 
but  little  :  and  from  that  little  they  could  learn  neither 
her  name,  nor  place  of  residence  ;  and  dying,  of  course 
her  boy  was  left  a  heritage  to  the  town. 

I  said  they  learned  nothing  from  what  she  said,  — 
nothing  but  her  father's  first  name  ;  for  she  had  said  of 
her  child,  "  Call  him  Peter,  after  my  father." 

Such  were  the  antecedents  of  Crazy  Pete,  —  such  the 
causes  that  made  him  what  he  was.  Inheriting  his 
mother's  susceptibility,  or,  as  we  should  say,  medium- 
istic  powers,  intensified,  he  manifested  them  from 
early  childhood,  saw  what  those  about  him  could  not 


34  ALICE  VALE. 

see,  heard  that  of  which  their  ears  could  catch  no  note ; 
and  so  they  called  him  crazy. 

Though  perfectly  harmless,  his  talk  of  seeing  angels, 
his  mother,  and  others  who  were  known  to  be  dead,  made 
him  an  object  of  fear  and  awe  to  the  younger  portion  of 
the  community,  and  of  contempt  to  the  others.  Is  it 
strange,  then,  that  it  should  call  forth  remark,  when, 
instead  of  shrinking  away,  as  others  of  her  years  did, 
Alice  Vale  would  spend  hours  in  his  company,  assert- 
ing, when  spoken  to  upon  the  subject,  that  he  was  no 
more  crazy  than  other  folks  ? 


THE  PROPHECY.  35 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   PROPHECY. 

LIZA  COOK  wrote  a  poem  called 
"  The  Teachings  of  the  Idiot-born  ;  "  and 
another  writer,  in  speaking  of  her  poems, 

says,  — 

"  Thine  idiot-born,  O  God  of  lore  1 
How  little  do  we  know, 
Who,  in  that  world  to  come,  shall  prove 
The  high  ones,  or  the  low  ! 
Then  let  us  never  dare  to  scorn 
The  teachings  of  the  idiot-born." 


Peter  Stiverton,  —  he  took  his  last  name  from  those 
who  cared  for  him  the  first  years  of  his  life,  —  Peter 
Stiverton  was  a  pauper,  and,  as  such,  would  not,  of 
course,  be  judged  by  the  same  rule  that  more  favored 
children  are.  He  was  always  peculiar ;  but  what  would 
have  been  considered  as  evidence  of  smartness  in  others 
was  counted  as  a  tendency  to  insanity  in  him,  and  more 
especially  as  his  mother's  mind  had  evidently  been  un- 
settled. He  was  about  twelve  years  of  age  when  his 
peculiarities  began  to  increase  upon  him ;  and,  by  the 
time  he  was  fourteen,  it  was  a  conceded  fact  in  the 
minds  of  the  people  generally,  that  he  was  really  crazy : 
and  they  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  heeding  the 


36  ALICE   VALE. 

teachings  of  the  "  idiot-born,"  as  to  have  paid  any  par- 
ticular attention  to  aught  that  he  told  them  ;  but,  to 
Alice,  there  was  a  meaning  in  all  his  strange  sayings. 

"  Peter,  why  do  you  look  so  sad  ?  "  said  she  to  him 
one  day,  as  she  found  him  in  his  accustomed  seat  be- 
neath the  broad  spreading  elm,  in  the  grove  below  the  old 
mill. 

"  Because  I  have  been  doing  wrong,  Miss  Alice." 

"  Why  do  you  always  say  Miss  ?  I  am  not  Miss,  but 
only  Alice." 

"  You  are  Miss  Alice  ;  and  I  shall  always  call  you  so." 

"  Then  I  will  call  you  Mr.  Peter.  But  what  have 
you  been  doing  wrong  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  angry,  —  oh  !  so  angry ;  and  it  makes 
me  unhappy  to- think  of  it." 

"  What  was  it  that  made  you  angry,  Mr.  Peter?  " 

"  That  big  boy  who  has  lately  come  into  the  place 
called  me  a  pauper,  and  my  mother  a  bad  woman." 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  mind  it,  Peter." 

"  I  don't  now,  Miss  Alice :  I  am  only  sorry  that  I 
was  so  wicked  as  to  get  angry  ;  of  all  the  people  in  the 
world,  Peter  Stiverton  should  have  known  better." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  have  been  taught  by  the  angels,"  he  re- 
plied solemnly. 

Alice  looked  at  him  with  wondering,  earnest  eyes ; 
and  there  was  an  expression  in  them  which  showed  that 
she,  too,  would  like  to  be  taught  by  the  angels. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  as  if  in  answer  to  her 
thoughts,  he  continued,  "  Wait,  wait :  it  will  come  at 
last." 

"  What  will  come  ?  "  she  said. 


THE  PROPHECY.  37 

"  I  can  not  tell  you  what,  for  they  have  not  told  me  ; 
but  they  say  it  will  come."  And,  as  if  he  could  not 
forget  that  he  had  been  angry,  he  murmured,  "  Oh  !  it 
was  so  wrong :  the  birds  and  the  bees  tell  me  of  it ;  the 
flies  laugh  at  me  ;  and  even  the  mosquitoes  sing,  4  You 
got  mad,  Peter.  Peter,  you  got  mad.' >: 

"Fie,  fie,  Peter!  that  is  all  nonsense:  you  only  im- 
agine it." 

Turning  his  blue  eyes  full  upon  her,  he  waited  at 
least  a  minute  without  speaking.  Alice  began  to  fear 
that  she  had  grieved  him,  when  he  asked,  "  Do  you  not 
believe  that  all  things  have  a  language  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,  Peter." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  a  language  that  is  not  under- 
stood?" 

"  They  may  understand  each  other,  —  doubtless  do, 
Peter." 

"  The  trees  and  the  flowers  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  before ;  but,  if  they  have  a 
language,  they  must,  of  course." 

"  And  does  not  God  understand  them  all  ?  " 

"  God  knows  all  things,  Peter." 

"And  can  give  to  his  creatures  such  gifts  as  he 
chooses  ?  " 

"  No  one  doubts  his  power,"  said  Alice. 

"  Why,  then,  could  he  not  give  me  ears  to  hear  what 
the  bees  and  the  birds,  the  flies  and  .the  mosquitoes, 
say?" 

"  It  must  be  so,  Peter :  I  feel  that  you  are  right ;  and 
yet  it  seems  so  strange.  I  never  look  upon  a  beautiful 
flower,  or  a  grand  old  tree,  but  they  seem  to  be  talking 
to  me :  only  I  can  not  understand  what  they  say." 


38  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Neither  can  I  understand  what  the  French  people 
say  who  come  here  sometimes." 

"  Oh  !  but  you  could  learn  if  you  had  a  teacher." 

"  Do  you  not  believe,  Miss  Alice,  that  the  angels 
understand  the  language  of  the  flowers,  and  the  trees, 
and  of  all  living  things  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  they  must." 

"  And  did  I  not  tell  you  I  had  been  taught  by  the 
angels  ?  " 

"  You  did,  Peter  ;  but  I  did  not  think  of  that." 

"  I  have  something  more  to  tell  you,  too,  Miss  Alice. 
I  am  going  away  ;  and,  where  I  go,  they  will  be  sad  if  I 
get  angry." 

"  Going  away !     Where  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  live  with  my  mother :  she  told  me 
last  night  that  she  was  coming  after  me  soon." 

"  Going  to  die  !  " 

"  My  mother  is  not  dead." 

"  She  is  what  they  call  dead :  we  can  not  see  her." 

"  I  can  see  her  when  she  comes  to  me  ;  I  can  hear 
her  when  she  talks  to  me ;  and  she  tells  me  that  their 
songs  have  a  note  of  sadness  in  them  when  those  they 
love  do  that  which  is  not  right :  but  come,  let  us  go 
down  among  the  pebbles  at  the  foot  of  the  great  rock, 
just  where  the  little  brook  flows  into  the  creek.  I  want 
to  talk  to  you  about  them  ;  for,  after  I  go  with  mother,  it 
will  be  a  long  time  before  I  can  talk  with  you  again." 

"  And  will  you  come  and  talk  to  me  as  your  mother 
does  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  nor  when  ;  but  I  shall  talk  with 
you,  for  mother  says  so.  Y  ~>u  will  live  to  see  and  hear 
wonderful  things,  Miss  Alice  ;  but  there  is  a  cloud  be- 


THE  PROPHECY.  39 

tween  now  and  then,  —  a  big,  dark  cloud,  with  bright 
lightnings  and  rolling  thunders.  Oh  !  those  bright  light- 
nings are  to  clear  your  eyesight,  and  the  thunder  to 
make  you  hear  better.  You  will  see  and  hear,  —  you 
will  see  and  hear.  But  here  we  are  among  the  pebbles : 
let  us  talk  about  them." 

A  few  days  after  the  above  conversation,  Peter  was 
taken  very  sick,  and,  after  a  few  hours  of  severe  suffer- 
ing, went,  as  he  had  said,  to  his  mother.  The  event 
made  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  Alice ;  for  she 
thought,  if  one  part  of  what  he  said  becomes  true,  why 
not  the  other  ? 

From  this  time  forth,  Alice  Vale  seemed  a  changed 
being.  She  wandered  in  the  fields  and  woods  as  be- 
fore but  seldom ;  and,  when  she  did,  she  appeared  to 
take  but  little  pleasure  in  her  accustomed  haunts.  When 
rallied  upon  the  subject  by  her  young  companions,  she 
replied,  "  What  is  the  use  ?  I  never  go  but  I  see  some- 
thing I  do  not  understand ;  and  there  is  no  one  to  tell  me 
about  it  now." 

"  Only  listen  to  her !  "  exclaimed  half  a  dozen  voices 
at  once  :  "  one  would  think,  to  hear  her  talk,  that  Crazy 
Pete  knew  every  thing." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  half  as  much,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  that 
forbade  further  remark  upon  the  subject.  And  for  years 
afterward  she  never  referred  to  him  in  any  manner  what- 
ever ;  and,  when  others  did,  she  was  silent.  She  became 
very  thoughtful ;  was  more  attentive  to  the  wishes  of 
her  parents ;  and  people  said,  "  It  is  a  good  thing  for  Alice 
that  Pete  is  dead ;  for  he  held  a  strange  influence  over  . 
her,  one  that  was  evidently  injuring  her." 

Mistaken  mortals,  to  think  that  influence  at  an  end ! 


40  ALICE   VALE. 

Ali:e  was  in  her  sixteenth  year  the  summer  that 
Pete--*-  died ;  and,  beginning  to  grow  rapidly  about  this 
time,  in  a  few  months  the  change  was  so  great,  that 
her  friends  would  hardly  have  known  her,  had  they  met 
her  elsewhere.  From  being  small  for  her  age,  and  with 
a  child-like  manner  that  caused  people  to  think  her 
younger  than  she  was,  the  reverse  became  true.  With 
her  growth  to  womanhood  came  that  quiet  dignity  which 
commanded  the  respect  of  all  who  saw  her. 

But  there  was  one  thing  in  which  she  was  not  changed ; 
and  that  was  in  her  individuality  of  character.  True, 
it  was  no  longer  the  individuality  of  childhood,  which 
acts,  or  seems  to  act,  more  from  instinct  than  reason : 
still,  it  was  none  of  the  less  marked.  She  thought  and 
acted  for  herself,  as  the  following  incident  will  show. 
Something  more  than  two  years  had  passed  since  she 
last  went  with  Pete  in  search  of  rare  flowers  and  curi- 
ous specimens  of  stone.  She  was  nearing  her  eighteenth 
birthday ;  and  her  mother  said,  — 

"  Alice,  I  think  I  must  give  you  a  party  on  the  tenth." 

"  And  why  on  the  tenth,  mother  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember  that  it  is  your  birthday?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  had  forgotten  it ;  but  will  it  be  convenient, 
mother,  for  us  to  have  it  at  that  time  ?  " 

"  As  much  so  as  at  any  other ;  but  what  a  strange 
girl  you  are,  Alice  !  Another  than  yourself  would  have 
been  delighted  at  the  bare  mention  of  the  thing,  instead 
of  stopping  to  start  objections." 

"  I  am  pleased  with  the  idea,  mother,  —  glad  that  you 
think  me  wortV.y  of  such  a  favor ;  but,  if  the  party  is  to 
be  for  me,  I  si  all  claim  the  privilege  of  selecting  the 
guests." 


THE  PROPHECY.  41 

"  All  right,  child ;  go  and  make  out  your  list,  and  I 
talk  with  your  father  this  evening  about  the  neces- 
sary preparations." 

"  Thank  you,  mother,"  said  she  ;  and,  sitting  down  at 
the  desk,  the  required  list  was  soon  ready,  and  handed  to 
Mrs.  Vale  for  her  inspection, 

44  Why,  Alice,  I  do  not  see  Edward  Winchester's 
name  here," 

44  It  is  not  there  :  I  do  not  intend  to  invite  him." 

44  Not  invite  Edward  Winchester !  " 

44  Upon  one  condition  I  will." 

44  And  what  is  that?" 

44  That  Addie  Graves  be  invited  also." 

44  Addie  Graves  !  You  are  crazy,  Alice :  every  other 
girl  would  leave,  should  she  come." 

44  Why,  mother  ?  " 

44  Why !     A  girl  that  is  a  mother  and,  not  a  wife  !  " 

44  And  Edward  Winchester,  is  a  father,  and  not  a 
husband." 

44  Oh  !  but  that  is  different." 

4 'Different  only  in  the  fact  that  he  is  the  aggressive 
party,  and  therefore  the  most  to  blame.  Addie  never 
sought  him ;  and,  if  he  had  left  her  alone  in  her  inno- 
cence, she  would  not  now  be  a  mother,  and  an  outcast 
from  society." 

44  But  the  world  does  not  look  upon  it  in  that  light." 

44  The  question  is,  not  what  the  world  thinks,  but  what 
is  right." 

44  But  it  will  never  do,  Alice,  to  make  a  party  and  not 
invite  Edward.  He  belongs  to  one  of  the  first  families 
in  the  place  :  and,  more  than  that,  your  father  has  lately 
had  some  heavy  business  transactions  with  Winchester 


42  ALICE   VALE. 

&  Son  ;  and,  if  we  offend  them,  it  might  injure  us  in  a 
pecuniary  point  of  view." 

"  Then,  mother,  we  will  not  have  the  party  at  all ;  and 
the  expense  of  it  can  be  saved  for  other  purposes." 

"  But  what  will  people  say  ?  I  have  already  told  two 
or  three  that  I  intended  to  give  you  a  party  upon  your 
eighteenth  birthday ;  and,  as  you  are  invited  to  other 
places,  it  looks  as  though  we  were  afraid  of  a  little 
trouble,  or  a  little  expense,  if  we  do  not  return  the 
compliment." 

"  If  my  going  to  parties  places  us  under  a  bondage 
like  that,  I  will  stay  at  home  after  this." 

"  O  Alice  !  you  are  incorrigible." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be,  mother :  I  only  wish  to  do 
what  is  right." 

"  But  what  shall  I  say  to  those  who  are  expecting  the 
party  ?  " 

"  Tell  them  the  truth,  or  say  that  you  have  good 
reasons  for  giving  it  up." 

Just  at  this  juncture,  Nellie  Parton,  Alice's  most  in- 
timate friend,  called.  Almost  the  first  question  that 
she  asked  was  about  the  party. 

"  We  are  not  going  to  have  one,"  said  Alice. 

"  Do  not  say  we :  say  I,  for  it  is  all  your  own  fault, 
Alice ; "  and  then,  under  the  influence  of  the  irritation 
caused  by  her  daughter's  cool  disposal  of  the  matter, 
Mrs.  Vale  told  Nellie  why  Alice  would  not  have  the 
party. 

Now,  Nellie,  or  little  Miss  Parton,  as  she  was  some- 
times called  from  her  diminutive  size,  was  a  right-feel- 
ing little  body ;  but  she  had  not  the  courage  to  assert 
herself  as  Alice  had.  Still  she  always  stood  by  Alice, 
and  gloried  ii  her  it  -dependence. 


THE  PROPHECY.  43 

"Good!  good  for  you,  Alice!  I  wish  all  the  girls 
would  tike  the  same  stand  ;  for,  if  ever  a  poor  girl  was 
shamefully  wronged,  it  is  Addie  Graves.  I  am  going 
right  to  Miss  Manning,  to  tell  her  all  about  it.  Win- 
chester is  paying  her  some  attention  ;  and  she  shall  know 
how  things  stand,  and  what  at  least  one  person  thinks 
of  him.  I  do  not  think  she  knows  about  Addie,  for 
she  has  not  been  in  the  place  long." 

"  Don't  tell  her  about  the  party,  Nellie,"  said  Mrs. 
Vale  :  "  for,  if  you  do,  she  will  tell  some  one  else  ;  and, 
the  first  thing  we  know,  Winchester  will  hear  of  it, 
and  that  Avill  make  hard  feelings." 

"  Let  him  feel  hard.  I  shouldn't  care.  He  ought  to 
know  it :  it  might  serve  to  lower  his  self-esteem  a  little," 
exclaimed  Nellie ;  while  Alice  quietly  remarked,  "  I 
have  no  objection  to  Mr.  Winchester's  knowing  my 
opinion  of  him." 

Nellie  was  as  good  as  her  word.  She  not  only  told 
Miss  Manning,  but  others ;  and  twenty-four  hours  had 
not  elapsed  before  it  came  to  young  Winchester's  ears. 
He  smiled  quietly,  and,  with  an  air  of  the  most  consum- 
mate self-conceit,  said,  "  I  see  where  the  trouble  lies :  I 
have  not  paid -that  attention  to  Miss  Alice  that  I  might 
have  done,  and  she  takes  this  mode  of  showing  her  re- 
sentment. Say  nothing,  John,  and  I  can  soon  make 
that  all  rio-ht : "  and  John,  the  obedient  shadow  of  this 

O  y 

boastful  libertine,  said  nothing,  but  waited  further  de- 
velopments. 

Some  three  weeks  afterward,  Mrs.  Roland,  the  lady 
whose  remarks  about  Alice  three  years  previous  opens 
this  story,  give  out  invitations  for  a  party  ;  inviting  only 
the  gentl  ;men,  and  leaving  them  to  select  the  ladies. 


41  ALICE  VALE. 

The  next  evening  after  these  invitations  were  given  out, 
the  Vales  were  much  surprised  at  receiving  a  call  from 
young  Winchester,  After  a  few  minutes'  general  con- 
versation, he  turned  to  Alice  and  said,  "  Miss  Vale,  I 
called  to  ask  the  pleasure  'of  your  company  to  Mrs. 
Roland's  party." 

"  Do  the  gentlemen  have  the  privilege  of  taking  more 
than  one  lady  ?  "  asked  Alice  quietly. 

"  I  suppose  they  do  if  they  wish,"  said  he,  with  a  look 
of  extreme  surprise  upon  his  countenance.  "  But  why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

*'  For  no  particular  reason,"  she  replied  in  the  same 
quiet  tones  :  "  only  I  had  thought  of  spending  that 
evening  with  Addie  Graves ;  but,  if  you  will  take  her 
too,  I  will  go." 

The  young  man  arose  to  his  feet  with  a  face  flushed 
with  passion,  and  so  excited  that  he  trembled  from  head 
to  foot.  "  Miss  Vale,  you  shall  repent  this  insult  to  the 
latest  day  of  your  life," 

Alice  preserved  her  self-possession.  "Mr.  Winches- 
ter," said  she,  "  you  once  thought  it  no  disgrace  to  be 
seen  in  public  with  Miss  Graves  ;  and,  if  she  is  not  what 
she  then  was,  it  is  your  own  work." 

Winchester  strove  to  make  some  reply :  but  rage 
choked  his  utterance ;  and,  turning  upon  his  heel,  he 
abruptly  left  the  house.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vale  were  both 
present,  but  were  too  much  surprised  at  the  turn  things 
had  taken  to  make  any  remark  till  Mr.  Winchester  had 
gone. 

"  O  Alice ! "  cried  Mrs.  Vale,  "  what  have  you 
done  !  "  while  her  father  said,  "  You  are  a  brave  girl, 
Alice :  wt  uld  to  heaven  there  were  more  such  !  but  you 


THE  PROPHECY.  45 

have  made  a  bitter  enemy,  —  one  who  will  stop  at 
nothing  that  promises  to  gratify  his  revenge.  I  fear  that 
you  will  yet  suffer  for  this." 

"  I  can  afford  to  suffer  in  the  cause  of  right,  my 
father,"  she  replied. 

"  And  to  see  others  suffer  also?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  would  indeed  be  hard ;  but  I  could  bear  even 
that  better  than  the  loss  of  self-respect." 

"  God  grant  that  you  may  be  called  upon  to  bear 
neither  !  "  said  he  earnestly,  but  in  a  tone  which  showed 
that  he  felt  depressed. 

After  Mr.  Vale  had  gone  to  his  place  of  business, 
Mrs.  Vale  sighed,  and  seemed  inclined  to  utter  re- 
proaches :  but  Alice  looked  so  calm,  so  undisturbed,  that 
her  heart  failed  her ;  and,  with  another  sigh  still  more 
emphatic  than  the  first,  she  retired  to  her  room,  and 
the  true-hearted  girl  was  left  to  her  own  reflections. 
And  what  those  reflections  were,  let  those  who  have 
dared  to  brave  popular  sins,  have  dared  to  defend  the 
weak  against  the  strong,  the  victim  against  the  destroy- 
er, —  let  such  imagine. 

Nelly  Parton  came  in  the  next  day,  as  usual ;  and 
when  she  said,  "  Al,  I  never  stop  for  ceremony,  as  you 
see,"  Alice  replied,  "  Neither  do  humming-birds." 

"  Now,  Al,  you  are  too  bad  to  compare  me  to  so  in- 
signilicant  a  thing  as  that,  even  if  it  is  beautiful." 

"  Choice  goods  are  done  up  in  small  parcels,"  contin- 
ued Alice  smiling. 

"  Hush,  flatterer !  but  what  was  Ed  Winchester  doing 
here  last  night :  Charley  said  he  saw  him  go  out  of 
here,  and  he  looked  as  if  lightning  had  struck  him." 

"  H*  carae  to  invite  me  to  Mrs.  Roland's  party." 


46  ALICE   VALE. 

Nelly  open  3d  her  blue  eyes  to  their  utmost  capacity, 
and  uttered  the  single  ejaculation,  "  You !  " 

"  Yes,  me,  little  puss :  what  is  there  so  strange  in 
that?" 

"  But  you  are  not  going  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  I  would  if  he  would  take  Addie  Graves 
too ;  but  that  idea  did  not  seem  to  suit  him,  so  he  de- 
clined the  honor." 

"  That  accounts  for  it." 

"  Accounts  for  what  ?  " 

"  The  way  he  looked  when  he  left  here.  Charley 
said  he  never  saw  such  an  expression  on  one's  face  in 
his  life." 

"  It  was  not  a  light  evening :  I  don't  see  how  Charley 
could  have  seen  him  so  plainly,"  said  Alice. 

"  I  did  not  ask  him :  but  he  had  a  lantern  in  his  hand 
when  he  came  in,  and  I  suppose  it  must  have  been  by 
the  means  of  that.  Meeting  him  coming  out  of  your 
gate,  he  would  naturally  hold  the  light  so  as  to  see  who 
it  was.  What  reply  did  he  make  to  your  proposal?  " 

"  He  was  very  angry,  and  said  I  should  repent  the 
insult." 

"  Insult !  I  don't  wonder  he  is  ashamed  of  his  own 
work." 

"  He  does  not  act  as  if  he  was." 

"Well,  he  ought  to  be,  the  contemptible  fellow  !  But 
why  is  it,  Alice,  that  a  man  can  crush  a  woman  thus, 
and  the  blame  be  all  laid  to  her  ?  I  am  sure  I  could 
never  see  any  justice  in  it." 

"  There  is  none ;  but  it  will  always  be  thus  so  long 
as  men  are  a  privileged  class." 

"  A  privileged  class !  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 


THE  PROPHECY.  47 

"I  UK  an  that  they  have  rights  under  the  law  that 
woman  has  not.  If  there  is  a  law  that  does  not  suit 
them,  they  can  vote  to  have  it  changed ;  if  one  of  them 
commits  a  crime,  the  sheriff,  judges,  jury,  and  all,  are 
men.  Can  a  woman  vote  to  have  bad  laws  made  bet- 
ter ?  Can  a  woman,  if  she  has  done  a  wrong  that  the 
law  can  take  hold  of,  —  can  she  have  the  case  tried  by 
women  ?  and  this  is  but  a  small  part  of  what  I  might 
mention  as  evidence  that  men  are  a  privileged  class." 

"  I  didn't  know,  Alice,  that  you  were  for  '  Woman's 
Rights.'  " 

"  Neither  am  I  in  the  sense  that  most  people  under- 
stand that  term.  I  would  have  woman  as  God  made 
her,  —  woman,  and  not  man  ;  but  I  would  have  her 
man's  equal  before  the  law :  now  she  is  not.  She  may 
be  — 

'  His  empress,  or  his  slave, 
Or  his  discarded  jest/  — 

but  never  his  equal  in  aught  wherein  she  can  actively 
put  forth  her  energies  :  it  is  only  when  she  is  to  be 
punished  or  taxed  that  the  equality  conies  in.  Man  by 
his  own  showing,  is  not  to  be  trusted ;  and  yet  he  claims 
and  holds  the  right  to  make  laws  for  woman  to  protect 
and  control  her." 

"  And  how  does  he  show  that  he  is  not  to  be  trust- 
ed ?  I  have  never  seen  any  thing  to  make  me  think  that 
men  were  less  truthful  than  women,"  said  Nelly 
thoughtfully. 

"  Perhaps  not :  but  what  does  such  treatment  as  Ad- 
die  Graves  has  received  at  the  hands  of  Edward  Win- 
chester and  of  society  say  ?  Why,  that  society  at  large 


48  ALICE   VALE. 

recognizes  the  fact,  that  man's  word  is  not  to  be  trusted 
where  matters  of  vital  importance  to  woman  are  con- 
cerned ;  yea,  that  his  solemn  oath,  his  strongest  assev- 
erations, are  so  worthless,  that  the  woman  who  shows 
sufficient  confidence  therein  to  place  herself  in  his  power 
is  looked  upon  as  a  weak  fool.  I  say  that  society  every- 
where recognizes  this  as  a  fact ;  and  man,  instead  of 
resenting  the  insinuation,  glories  in  it,  says  by  his 
acts,  Why,  really,  here  is  a  woman  who  believed  I 
spoke  the  truth,  who  actually  thought  that  I  could  be 
trusted.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  what  a  fool !  " 

"  Why,  Alice,  you  would  make  a  good  lawyer!  " 

"  And  I  should  not  object  to  being  one,  if  I  might 
thus  aid  the  right,  might  plead  the  cause  of  the  helpless ; 
but  this  is  one  of  the  privileges  that  woman  may  not 
share  :  man  makes  law,  man  pleads  law ;  woman  only 
obeys." 

"  Hark  I  What  is  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Nelly,  starting 
to  her  feet,  and  listening  intently. 

"  What  ?     I  heard  nothing." 

" I  thought  I  heard  a  shriek — there  it  is  again;" 
and  both  girls  rushed  to  the  door  to  behold  a  sight  that 
chilled  their  blood  with  horror. 


COALS  OF  FIRE.  49 


CHAPTER    IV. 

COALS    OF    FIRE. 

"  If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him ;  for  in  so  doing  thou  shalt  heap 
coals  of  fire  upon  his  head."  —  Bible. 

HEN  Edward  Winchester  left  Mr.  Vale's, 
the  night  before,  his  anger  amounted  al- 
most to  phrensy.  The  coolness  of  Alice, 
and  the  justice  of  her  remarks,  maddened 
him  to  that  degree  that  he  hardly  knew 
what  he  was  doing.  "  The  proud  minx !  "  exclaimed  he 
aloud,  as  soon  as  he  had  reached  his  room  ;  "  I'll  hum- 
ble her  yet ;  I'll  teach  her  that  she  can  not  insult  me 
with  impunity." 

"But  did  she  not  tell  you  the  truth?"  whispered 
conscience  :  "  was  it  not  your  own  work  that  she  held 
up  to  your  view  ?  " 

"  My  work !  damn  a  woman  that  can't  take  care  of 
herself,"  he  continued  in  the  same  excited  tones,  as  he 
walked  rapidly  back  and  forth  across  the  room. 
"  How  now,  Winchester  !  what's  up  ?  " 
"  That's  my  business,"  he  replied,  scarcely  waiting  to 
see  who  the  speaker  was. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  intruding ;  but  I  found  your 
door  open,  and  you  did  not  answer  my  rap,"  said  the 
young  man,  in  tones  which  showed  that  he  was  offended. 

4 


50  ALICE  VALE. 

Winchester  looked  up.  "  Excuse  me,  Bronson ;  but 
I  am  vexed  to-night :  I  meant  no  offense  to  you." 

"  Then  I  will  leave  you  till  you  are  in  better  hu- 
mor." 

"  There,"  said  Winchester,  as  the  door  closed  behind 
his  friend,  —  "  there,  I  have  offended  a  friend  as  the  first 
step  toward  accomplishing  my  object.  I  must  keep 
cool,  or  I  shall  spoil  every  thing  ;  "  and,  locking  the  door 
to  prevent  further  intrusion,  he  sat  far  into  the  night, 
revolving  plans  that  would  help  him  to  triumph  over 
the  girl  who  had  dared  to  tell  him  the  truth. 

The  next  morning  he  arose  with  the  same  restless 
feeling  upon  him  ;  and,  after  trying  in  vain  to  fasten  his 
mind  upon  business,  he  resolved  to  take  an  excursion 
into  the  country.  Going  to  one  of  the  stables  to  get  a 
horse,  he  was  told  that  they  had  none  for  him  except 
one  that  was  so  fractious  and  high-lifed  that  he  was  not 
considered  safe  for  any  but  the  most  experienced  riders. 

"  Let  me  have  him  :  I  am  not  afraid  of  him." 

"  If  you  take  him,  Winchester,  you  do  so  at  your 
own  risk ;  but  I  would  advise  you  not  to  try  to  ride 
him,"  said  the  groom. 

"  I  tell  you  I  am  not  afraid  of  him  :  bring  him  out," 
was  the  impatient  reply  ;  and  then  to  himself,  "  I  want 
something  that  has  some  fire  :  it  will  do  me  good."  The 
horse  was  brought  out,  but  behaved  so  badly  that  he 
was  again  urged  not  to  ride  him. 

But  Winchester  replied,  "  I  will  ride  him,  or  die  in 
the  attempt ;  "  and,  mounting  the  determined-looking 
beast,  he  started  off  with  a  brisk  trot.  The  horse  went 
very  well  for  about  half  a  mile  ;  but,  in  crossing  a  small 
bridge,  some  hogs  started  up  from  beneath  it.  Making 


COALS  OF  FIRE.  61 

this  an  excuse  for  a  scare,  the  creature,  who  had  all 
along  showed  mischief  in  his  eye,  turned,  and  started 
upon  a  full  run  for  town.  So  fleet  was  his  motion,  that 
Winchester  could  hardly  keep  his  seat,  much  less  check 
and  turn  back  the  fiery  animal.  Just  as  they  reached 
the  nain  part  of  the  village,  the  horse  made  a  quick 
movement,  that  threw  his  rider  from  his  back  ;  but  his 
feet  catching  in  the  stirrup,  he  was  dragged  along  at  a 
rate  that  threatened  instant  death  ;  and  this  was  what 
Alice  and  Nelly  saw  as  they  reached  the  door." 

As  fate  would  have  it,  Addie  Graves  came  around 
the  corner  just  at  the  moment  her  false  lover  was  thrown  ; 
and  it  was  her  shriek  that  Nelly  had  heard. 

"  O  Alice,  Alice,  he  will  be  killed ! "  exclaimed 
Nelly. 

"  I  fear  he  is  that  already,"  replied  Alice,  as  she 
looked  at  the  pale  bleeding  form,  which  was  at  the  mo- 
ment freed  from  contact  with  the  stirrup,  and  left  lying 
close  by  their  gate. 

By  this  time  quite  a  crowd  had  collected ;  and  Addie 
was  slipping  away,  when  Alice,  seeing  the  movement, 
stepped  quickly  to  her  side  and  said,  "  Go  into  the  house 
Addie,  and  stay  in  my  room  till  I  can  come  to  you." 

The  poor  girl  looked  the  thanks  she  could  not  speak, 
as  she  availed  herself  of  this  opportunity  of  being  near 
the  man  she  still  loved,  though  he  had  so  cruelly 
wronged  her,  till  it  could  be  ascertained  what  his  in- 

O  ' 

juries  really  were.  As  the  mother  of  his  child,  she 
should  have  been  by  his  side  :  but  no,  that  might  not 
be  ;  for  the  curious,  questioning  eyes  of*  those  who  con- 
demned her  became  he  had  led  her  into  wrong,  and 
then  forsaken  her,  was  more  than  her  sensitive  nature 
could  endure. 


52  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Gracious  heaven,  what  an  anomaly  is  this !  In  all 
other  cases,  the  tempter  is  looked  upon  as  the  most  to 
blame,  and  is  treated  accordingly ;  but  here  he  is  ex- 
onerated, or  mostly  so,  while  the  weight  of  public  in- 
dignation falls  upon  the  tempted.  There  is  a  reason 
for  this  somewhere  ;  but  who  shall  find  and  hold  it  up 
successfully  to  the  view  of  the  world  ?  "  Such  were 
the  thoughts  of  Alice  as  she  marked  the  looks  of  con- 
tempt cast  upon  Addie  during  the  few  moments  that 
she  mingled  with  the  crowd. 

Young  Winchester  was  taken  up  in  a  senseless  con- 
dition, and  carried  into  Mr.  Vale's ;  while  the  hastily- 
summoned  physician  proceeded  to  examine  his  wounds. 
He  reported  one  broken  ankle,  one  dislocated  wrist, 
beside  bruises  external  and  internal. 

"  Can  he  live  ?  "  was  the  anxious  question  that  was 
next  asked. 

"I  see  nothing  to  prevent  it  if  he  has  careful  nursing : 
but  he  can  not  be  moved  for  a  month  at  the  least ;  and  if 
fever  sets  in,  as  I  fear  it  will,  it  may  be  longer." 

"  What  if  his  friends  call  to  see  him  ?  "  asked  Alice. 

"  His  parents  will  be  admitted  of  course,  but  none 
others  ;  for  he  must  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible." 

"  His  parents  are  not  in  town." 

"  Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  They  stared  last  week  on  a  visiting  tour  through 
New  England,  and  do  not  expect  to  return  under  two 
months." 

The  doctor  looked  anxious. 

"  Do  not  be  uneasy,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Vale:  "he 
shall  be  care  1  for  as  if  he  were  my  own  son.  Henry, 
our  boy  of  a/1  work,  if  he  is  but  sixteen,  is  as  good  as  a 


COALS  OF  FIRE.  53 

wo  nan  to  wait  upon  the  sick  ;  and  Alice,  I  am  sure,  will 
do  her  best." 

"  I  certainly  shall,"  said  Alice  ;  "  but,  doctor,  I  would 
like  to  talk  with  you  a  minute." 

He  stepped  aside  ;  and  his  countenance  brightened  at 
the  few  words  that  were  spoken  in  his  ear.  "  I  wish 
it  could  be  so,"  said  he  :  *'  but  it  would  occasion  remark  ; 
and,  if  not,  he  would  not  consent  to  it." 

"  Are  not  persons  in  his  condition  apt  to  be  deranged 
when  fever  sets  in  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Very  apt  to  be ;  and  his  head  is  so  jarred,  that 
he  is  not  exactly  himself  now.  Indeed,  I  don't  think 
he  realized,  at  any  time  while  I  was  dressing  his  wounds, 
what  the  trouble  was." 

"  If  you  will  leave  it  to  me,  doctor,  I  will  manage  it 
so  that  he  will  not  be  excited  ;  neither  shall  there  be 
any  remarks  made.  All  I  ask  is,  positive  orders  from 
you  that  there  shall  be  no  one  admitted  to  his  room  ex- 
cept those  who  have  the  care  of  him." 

"  I  shall  certainly  do  that,  for  the  necessity  of  the 
case  demands  it ;  and  will  promise  silence,  and  my  aid 
in  carrying  out  your  plan  as  far  as  is  possible." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor." 

Alice  next  went  to  her  mother.  Here  she  found 
more  opposition.  "  What  will  people  say  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  do  not  intend  that  they  shall  know  it, — not  at 
present,  at  least." 

"  Ah !  but  they  will  find  it  out,"  said  Mrs.  Vale, 
shaking  her  head :  "  you  can  not  keep  such  things  from 
t  le  public." 

"  And  what  if  they  do,  mother." 

"  What  if  they  do  ?     Why,  we  shall  lose  our  reputa- 


54  ALICE  VALE. 

tion.  People  will  say  that  we  justify  such  conduct, 
Alice.  I  tell  you  I  don't  want  her  in  the  house." 

"  But  she  is  here,  mother ;  and  I  don't  want  her  to 
leave. 

"  Is  here :  where  ?  " 

"  In  my  room." 

"  O  Alice !  Alice  !  Who  ever  saw  such  a  girl ! 
I  thought,  after  Crazy  Pete  died,  that  you  were  learning 
some  sense  ;  but  I  had  as  soon  you  would  run  in  the 
woods,  and  climb  trees,  as  to  do  as  you  are  doing  now." 

"  When  I  was  a  child,  I  behaved  like  a  child,  was 
true  to  my  child-nature  ;  but  now  that  I  am  a  woman, 
with  all  due  deference  to  you,  mother,  I  wish  to  be  time 
to  my  womanhood,"  said  Alice,  tears  filling  her  eyes. 

"  And  do  you  call  it  being  true  to  your  womanhood, 
—  this  sustaining  those  that  have  been  false  to  theirs  ?  " 

"  But,  mother,  suppose  it  was  your  own  daughter  ?  " 

"  She  should  no  longer  be  a  daughter  of  mine  ?  " 

"  But  you  would  take  her  destroyer  into  the  house, 
and  care  for  him  ?  " 

"  No :  I  don't  think  I  could  quite  do  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Vale,  softening  a  little  at  the  thought  of  such  a  con- 
tingency. 

"  Well,  remember,  mother  dear,  that  poor  Addie  lost 
her  mother  just  at  the  time  that  she  needed  her  the 
most." 

"  I  know  it :  I  know  it,  child  ;  and  I  have  always  felt 
sorry  for  her :  but  I  can  not,  on  that  account,  permit 
you  to  take  a  step  that  would  compromise  you.  No, 
no,  it  can  not  be :  I  shall  not  consent  to  it,"  she  con- 
tinied,  in  response  to  the  pleading  look  that  was  cast 
upc  n  her. 


COALS  OF  FIRE.  65 

Alice  began  to  fe  ir  that  she  was  to  be  defeated ;  but 
just  then  her  father  came  in.  "What  is  all  this  that 
I  hear  of  Winchester's  being  nearly  killed  ?  "  said  he. 

Mrs.  Vale  told  him  the  state  of  the  case  as  near  as 
she  could,  and  then  added,  — 

"  And  Alice,  foolish  child,  is  determined  to  have 
Addie  Graves  here  to  help  take  care  of  him." 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  said  Mr.  Vale. 

"  Why  not !  You  men  never  do  have  any  sense  :  it 
will  not  do  at  all,  and  you  ought  to  know  it." 

"  I  must  confess,  wife,  that  I  can  not  see  why  it  will 
not  do.  Alice,  my  child,  what  is  your  object  in  wishing 
Addie  here  ?  " 

"  Why,  father,  I  have  always  noticed,  that,  when 
people  were  suffering,  they  are  apt  to  be  more  tender- 
hearted, more  ready  to  feel  for  the  sufferings  of  others 
and"  — 

"  And  you  thought,  perhaps,  that  if  he  could  see 
Addie  now,  —  could  know  she  was  ready  to  care  for  him, 
notwithstanding  all  that  has  passed,  —  that  his  heart 
might  soften  toward  her,  and  he  be  willing  to  do  her  jus- 
tice by  making  her  his  wife  ?  " 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,  father ;  but  there  is  another 
thing.  The  doctor  says  that  he  must  have  the  best  of 
nursing,  or  he  will  not  live :  now,  what  is  there  that 
will  make  so  good  a  nurse  of  one  as  devoted  love  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,  my  child ;  and  it  shall  be  as  you 
wish"—  . 

«But"  — 

t;  No  buts  in  the  matter,  Mrs.  Vale.  I  do  not  often 
oppose  your  plans,  nor  interfere  with  your  wishes ;  but 
this  thing  shall  be  as  I  say." 


56  ALICE  VALE. 

"  O  father  ! '    said  Alice  deprecatingly. 

"I  am  not  ungry,  child,  only  in  earnest:  now  go 
your  way,  and  your  father  will  see  that  there  shall  no 
blame  fall  on  your  head." 

Thus  dismissed,  Alice  hastened  to  her  own  room, 
where  she  found  poor  Addie  lying  upon  the  bed  with 
her  face  nearly  as  white  as  the  pillow  upon  which  her 
head  rested. 

'*  O  Alice  I  is  he  alive  ?  "  she  gasped,  staggering  to 
her  feet. 

"  Yes,  alive,  and  with  good  nursing  will  recover ; 
so  the  doctor  says." 

"  Thank  God !  thank  God  ! "  she  exclaimed ;  and, 
sinking  back  upon  the  bed,  burst  into  a  passion  of 
weeping. 

"  Addie,"  said  Alice,  when  she  had  grown  some- 
what calm,  —  "  Addie,  do  you  still  love  that  man  ?  " 

u  Love  him !  I  would  give  my  soul  for  his  to-day, 
as  cruelly  as  he  has  wronged  me,"  was  her  quick  and 
emphatic  reply. 

"  He  is  not  worthy  of  such  love,"  said  Alice ;  "  but, 
Addie,  the  doctor  said  that  he  would  get  well  with  good 
nursing :  where  shall  we  find  a  good  nurse  ?  " 

Looking  a  moment  into  Alice's  face,  as  if  to  gather 
her  full  meaning,  the  poor  girl  clasped  her  hands  and 
said,  "  O  Alice  !  if  I  only  might/' 

"  And  so  you  shall :  you  and  I  together ;  for  you  can 
not  do  it  all.  It  is  all  arranged :  the  doctor  says  he 
must  see  no  one  only  those  who  have  the  care  of  him. 
I  have  pledged  them  all  to  silence,  except  Betty  the 
kitchen-girl ;  and  she  will  do  any  thing  I  wish.  You 
can  come,  and  tie  neighbors  will  be  none  the  wiser." 


COALS  OF  FIRE.  67 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  my  baby  ?  " 

"  Have  you  weaned  him  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  it  is  time  that  I  had." 

"  Well,  then,  send  him  out  to  Aunt  Chloe  for  that 
purpose." 

"  Aunt  Chloe  who  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  th  3  black  woman  who  lives 
up  by  the  steam-mill.  It  is  only  a  mile  from  town.  I 
will  write  a  note  for  you,  and  you  can  take  your  baby 
there  this  afternoon  :  it  will  be  all  right." 

"  All  right  if  I  can  get  father's  consent ;  but  he  is.  so 
incensed  against  Edward  that  I  fear  he  will  not  give  it." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  him  myself,"  said  Alice.  "  I  be- 
lieve I  am  rather  a  favorite  with  him,  and  I  don't  think 
he  will  refuse  me." 

Alice  had  a  harder  task  than  she  had  supposed :  but 
she  succeeded  at  last ;  and  the  next  night  found  Addie 
Graves  watching  beside  the  bed  of  the  man,  who,  of 
all  others,  should  have  been  her  best  and  truest  friend. 
But,  alas  !  past  events  had  proved  him  far  otherwise. 

The  sick  man  was  in  a  high  fever,  tossing  hither  and 
thither,  as  much  as  his  wounds  would  permit,  —  at  times 
moaning  piteously  with  pain,  and  then  again  living  over 
the  scenes  of  the  past,  as  was  shown  by  disconnected 
sentences  and  incoherent  mutterings. 

At  one  time  he  would  be  talking  to  Addie,  pleading, 
in  soft  insinuating  tones,  the  promises  that  had  worked 
her  ruin  ;  and  at  others  he  would  curse  her  for  being 
such  a  weak  fcol  as  to  believe  him. 

Sometimes,  when  she  rested  her  soft  hand  upon  his 
foreheai,  or  jassed  it  gently  across  his  temples,  in  her 
efforts  to  sojthe  him,  he  would  say,  "  That  feels  like 


58  ALICE   VALE. 

Addic's  hand :  I  wonder  if  she  loves  me  well  enough 
to  follow  me  to  hell.  Surely  this  is  hell.  How  hot  it 
is!  nothing  —  nothing  cool  but  this  soft  hand."  And 
then  he  would  curse  Alice  for  minding  that  which  was 
none  cf  her  business.  But —  but  she  told  me  the  truth 
—  the  truth — the  truth,"  he  would  fairly  shriek  ;  till, 
falling  back  upon  his  pillow,  his  voice  sank  lower  and 
lower,  and  was  lost  at  last  in  fitful  slumber. 

Poor  Addie.  It  was  a  hard  place  for  her ;  but 
bravely  did  she  fill  it,  till,  at  length,  he  would  not  be 
content  without  her.  No  one  but  her  could  give  him 
his  food :  no  hand  but  hers  could  smooth  his  pillow  to 
suit  him. 

Alice  watched  the  progress  of  things,  and  hoped 
much  therefrom :  still,  she  trembled  as  well  as  longed 
for  the  moment  when  he  should  awake  to  conscious- 
ness, as  so  much  depended  upon  the  first  impression 
made  upon  his  mind  then. 

His  symptoms  were  growing  better,  his  sleep  less 
disturbed  and  of  longer  duration  ;  and  the  physician  said 
that  he  was  liable  to  awake  at  any  time,  perfectly  sane. 

One  day,  when  he  had  slept  unusually  long,  Addie, 
who  had  not  slept  the  night  before,  fell  into  a  drowse 
herself.  A  slight  movement  on  his  part  aroused  her ; 
and,  looking  up,  she  beheld  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with 
the  old  look  of  intelligence  in  them. 

Her  presence  of  mind  forsook  her;  and  she  could  not 
utter  a  word,  but  sat  for  one  moment  like  to  one  para- 
lyzed, and  the  next  arose,  and  glided  from  the  room. 

He  did  not  speak,  nor  attempt  to  detain  her ;  and, 
when  Alic }  came  in  just  after,  he  responded  to  her  sal- 
utation, aj  d  inquiries  after  his  health,  as  if  it  was  the 


COALS  OF  FIRE.  59 

most  natural  t  ling  in  the  world  that  he  should  be  there, 
and  in  the  con  lition  he  was. 

After  a  few  moments'  silence  on  both  sides,  he  said, 
"  Miss  Vale,  I  need  not  ask  you  how  I  came  here :  the 
last  recollection  I  have  is  of  being  thrown  to  the  ground, 
and  dragged  furiously  along.  I  suppose,  that,  by  some 
means,  I  must  have  got  loose  from  the  stirrup,  and  have 
been  brought  in  here.  All  after  that  seems  like  a 
frightful  dream,  in  which  I  thought  I  was  in  hell,  and 
that  an  angel  was  trying  to  get  me  out." 

"  Well,  that  is  past,  and  you  are  better  now,"  said 
Alice,  more  agitated  than  at  any  time  previous,  — even 
more  so  than  when  she  had  seen  him  taken  up  for  dead 
at  her  father's  gate. 

"  Yes  :  I  am  better  now,"  he  responded,  and,  turning 
his  head  away,  indicated  no  disposition  to  converse 
further. 

Alice  slipped  through  the  door,  where  Addie  stood 
in  a  suspense  that  hardly  permitted  her  to  breathe. 
"  Wait !  be  patient,"  said  she  in  a  hurried  whisper, 
"  and  it  will  all  be  right ;  "  and  then  returned  again  to 
her  post. 

After  lying  quiet  for  perhaps  twenty  minutes,  he 
turned  toward  Alice  again,  and  said,  "  I  have  been 
conscious  longer  than  you  are  aware  of,  Miss  Vale: 
now,  why  did  you  get  Miss  Graves  to  help  take  care  of 
me?" 

"  I  had  several  reasons,  Mr.  Winchester ;  one  of 
which  was,  the  doctor  said,  that,  unless  you  had  careful 
nursing,  you  would  not  recover." 

"  And  yoi  think  she  could  take  better  care  of  me 
than  others  ?  ' 


60  ALICE   VALE. 

"  I  knew,  Mr.  Winchester,  that  love  is  the  most 
faithful  of  watchers,"  replied  Alice,  having  so  far  re- 
covered her  self-possession  a?  to  look  him  calmly  in  the 
face. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  she  loves  me  still  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  she  does,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  another  reason? "  he  continued. 

"  I  hoped  to  see  your  better  nature  so  aroused  that 
you  would  do  her  justice,"  was  the  firm  response. 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  me  wholly  bad  ?  "  he  asked, 
with  an  air  of  humility  in  his  tones  so  unlike  his 
former  self  that  Alice  could  hardly  believe  her  own 
ears. 

"  Not  by  any  means,  Mr.  Winchester." 

He  sighed,  lay  silent  again  for  a  time  ;  and,  when  he 
next  looked  up,  it  was  to  ask,  — 

"  Will  you  send  Miss  Graves  here,  Miss  Vale  ?  " 

What  passed  in  that  room  for  the  next  hour  is  too 
sacred  for  the  public  ear  :  but,  ere  the  sun  had  withdrawn 
the  last  evidence  of  his  smiling  face,  Addie  Graves  was 
a^  wife ;  and,  from  thenceforth,  there  was  no  need  of 
concealment,  for  the  world  acknowledged  her  right  to 
watch  by  the  bedside  of  her  husband.  When  he  had 
done  herjustise,  then  others  were  willing  to. 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  61 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     CLOUD     RISING. 

Not  larger  than  the  human  hand  ; 
And  yet  the  prophet's  eye 
Could,  in  its  swiftly  moving  form, 
The  coming  tempest  spy. 

jjLICE,"  said  Mr.  Vale  to  his  daughter,  one 
evening  some  three  months  after  the  mar- 
riage of  Winchester  and  Addie,-    "  Alice, 
it  seems  to  me  that   you   and   Brown's 
clerk  are  getting  quite  too  friendly." 
"  Which   one  ?  "  asked   Alice   demurely  :   "  he  has 
three,  and  I  am  acquainted  with  them  all." 

"  Which  one !  you  know  well  enough,  without  ask- 
ing, you  jade  ;  and  you  had  better  not  let  me  catch  John 
Shepherd  here  again  very  soon." 

"  What  harm  is  there  in  him,  father  ?  " 
"  Harm  !  none  that  I  know  of,  only  he  will  be  want- 
ing to  marry  you  next." 

"  And  what  if  he  should,  father  ?  "  said  Alice,  in  those 
quiet  tones  that  mean  so  much. 

Mr.  Vale  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence.  Should 
he  arouse  the  opposition  of  her  determined  spirit  by 
laying  his  commands  upon  her  ?  or  should  he  take  some 
other  c  urse  to  separate  them  ?  These  were  the  ques- 
tions that  he  was  debating  in  his  mind.  He  feared  the 


62  ALICE   VALE 

effect  )f  the  former  course,  but  shrank  from  taking  the 
latter  for  he  despised  every  thing  that  looked  like  under- 
hande  i  dealing.  At  length  he  said,  — 

"Alice,  you  will  never  marry  that  man  with  my 
consent." 

"  I  am  sorry,  father,"  she  replied  ;  "  for  then  I  shall 
have  to  marry  him  without  it." 

"  If  you  do,  you  are  no  longer  a  child  of  mine,"  he 
exclaimed  excitedly ;  for  her  cool  self-possession  so 
maddened  him  that  he  entirely  forgot  his  resolutions  of 
prudence. 

"  Husband,  O  husband!  don't  say  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Vale  entreatingly ;  but  he  turned  upon  her  such  a  look 
that  she  dared  not  say  more. 

Mr.  Vale  was  a  singular  man,  —  in  many  respects  an 
excellent  one.  He  was  usually  an  indulgent  husband 
and  a  kind  father :  but  there  was  a  streak  of  tyranny  in 
his  nature,  which,  when  aroused,  brooked  no  opposi- 
tion ;  and  his  wife  had  long  since  learned  this  fact. 
And,  withal,  he  had  a  species  of  pride  that  was  none 
the  less  real  because  it  did  not  appear  upon  the  surface. 
He  had,  as  I  have  said  in  the  opening  chapter,  figured 
once  as  a  merchant  of  some  note  in  New-York  City ; 
but,  having  failed  there,  came  and  settled  in  this  little 
village,  to  continue  the  same  business  on  a  small  scale. 
Notwithstanding  his  suavity  of  manner,  he  had  always 
felt  a  sort  of  contempt  for  the  people  of  the  place  ;  and 
this  was  one  reason  why  he  had  cared  so  little  when 
Alice,  in  carrying  out  her  own  ideas  of  things,  had 
provoked  their  remarks,  and  brought  their  criticisms 
down  upon  her. 

True,  he  liked  to  see  independence  of  character,  when 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  63 

such  independence  did  not  interfere  with  his  cherished 
plans.  And,  more  than  this,  what  difference  did  it  make 
if  they  did  find  fault  with  his  child?  They  were  not 
her  equals.  Such  were  his  most  secret  feelings,  though 
hardly  acknowledged  even  to  himself. 

Some  of  their  old  acquaintances  from  the  city  —  sons 
of  wealthy  men,  who  had  been  the  schoolmates  of  Alice 
in  childhood  —  often  came  to  the  country  in  the  summer  ; 
and  one  or  more  of  them  frequently  spent  weeks  at  his 
house.  And  the  proudly  fond  father  had  secretly  hoped 
that  some  one  of  them  would  marry  Alice,  and  rein- 
state her  in  her  old  position  in  society,  or,  rather,  in  the 
one  she  would  have  occupied  had  he  remained  in  the 
ci;y  and  continued  successful. 

He  saw  no  reason  why  this  should  not  be  ;  and,  through 
the  influence  of  such  a  marriage,  he  might  regain,  par- 
tially at  least,  an  entree  into  the  social  circles  from  which 
he  now  felt  himself  excluded.  But,  should  Alice  wed 
a  poor  clerk,  these  hopes  would  be  dashed  to  the  ground : 
hence  his  excitability  upon  the  subject. 

It  was  not  ten  minutes  after  the  above  conversation 
before  young  Shepherd  himself  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

"  Mr.  Shepherd,"  said  Mr.  Vale,  turning  fiercely  upon 
him,  "  I  find  that  you  are  presuming  upon  the  hand  of 
my  daughter.  Leave  this  house,  sir,  and  never  dare  to 
enter  it  again." 

"  Does  your  daughter  acquiesce  in  this  decision,"  in- 
quired the  young  man,  turning  to  Alice. 

"  My  laughter  will  do  as  I  say,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Vale, 
pointing  to  the  door. 

Alice  was  about  to  speak,  but  a  second  thought  re- 
strained her :  she  gave  her  lover  a  look,  however, 


64  ALICE   VALE. 

which  so  far  satisfied  him  that  he  left  without  another 
word. 

"  T.iere,  that  matt*  r  is  settled :  now,  don't  let  me  hear 
of  any  more  such  nonsense,  Miss  Alice;"  but,  as  he 
looked  into  her  quiet  face,  he  felt  a  doubt  as  to  the 
matter's  being  really  settled,  after  all.  He  expected 
either  a  storm  of  reproaches,  or  a  flood  of  tears ;  but  he 
met  neither.  "  I  must  watch  her,"  was  his  mental  re- 
solve, "  or  she  will  be  too  much  for  me  yet." 

The  next  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  Alice  called 
on  Mrs.  Winchester.  Addie  met  her  with  a  glowing 
face  of  welcome.  "  O  Alice !  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you ;  but  what  makes  you  look  so  sober :  is  any  one 
sick  ?  " 

"  No :  we  are  all  as  well  as  usual,"  replied  Alice ;  "tut 
father  has  forbidden  John  Shepherd  the  house ;  and  I 
want  you  to  help  me  a  little,  that  is  all." 

Addie  lifted  up  her  hands  in  astonishment.  "  For- 
bidden him  the  house  !  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  He  thinks  I  am  going  to  marry  him,  which  I  cer- 
tainly intend  to  do." 

"  But  how  can  I  help  you,  Alice  ?  " 

' '  In  the  first  place,  say  nothing  of  this,  not  even  to 
your  husband,  till  I  give  you  permission ;  and,  in  the 
next,  find  means  to  put  this  note  into  Mr.  Shepherd's 
hands  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  will  do  both  with  all  my  heart ;  for  I  can  never 
half  repay  the  obligation  I  am  under  for  your  past 
kindness." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  that :  I  am  more  than  paid  for  the 
past;  'tis  the  present  we  have  to  deal  with,"  said  Alice 
smiling ;  "  but  I  must  return  home,  or  I  shall  be  missed." 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  G5 

That  afternoon,  -,vhen  Mrs.  Winchester  went  into 
Mr.  Brown's  store,  she  so  managed  it  that  it  was  John 
Shepherd  who  waited  upon  her,  instead  of  the  clerk 
who  usually  claimed  that  honor ;  and,  when  she  left, 
the  young  man  found  himself  in  the  possession  of  the 
following  note :  — 

DEAR  JOHN,  —  Be  patient,  and  all  will  yet  be  right. 
Do  not  seek  me  at  present,  but  rest  assurecUthat  I  shall 
prove  true  to  you.  Destroy  this  when  you  have  read 
it,  to  prevent  accidents  ;  for  my  father  will  leave  no 
stone  unturned  in  seeking  to  know  if  we  hold  any 
correspond  snce. 

From  your  own 

ALICE. 

"  Bless  her  true  heart !  "  was  the  lover's  mental  ex- 
clamation, as  he  looked  the  note  over  carefully  for  the 
second  time,  and  then,  putting  it  into  his  mouth,  com- 
menced the  process  of  destruction  by  masticating  it 
finely.  "  Bless  her  true  heart !  still,  this  underhanded 
way  of  doing  business  goes  against  my  feelings.  How 
much  better  it  would  be  to  have  every  thing  open  and 
above  board ! " 

"  Hallo,  there,  Jack.!  are  you  learning  to  chew  tobac- 
co ?"  said  a  fellow-clerk  to  him,  as  he  returned  to  his 
post. 

"  Not  exactly,"  was  the  reply ;  but,  in  saying  this,  he 
drew  in  his  breath  in  such  a  manner  that  the  paper 
choked  and  set  him  to  coughing.  With  the  first  cough, 
it  was  thrown  half  way  across  the  room.  Shepherd  and 
t\  e  other  young  man,  whose  name  was  Holten,  both 


06  ALICE   VALE. 

started  for  it ;  but  Holten  reached  it  first,  and  refused  to 
give  it  up. 

It  -vas  in  vain  that  Shepherd  coaxed  and  threatened 
by  tons.  The  paper  was  so  mutilated  that  it  could  not 
be  read  ;  but  Shepherd  did  not  know  this,  and  Holten 
kept  it  for  a  purpose  of  his  own.  "  It  is  some  love- 
letter,  I  will  warrant,"  said  Holten  laughingly ;  "  and 
he  could  not  get  enough  of  it  without  eating  it." 

Shepherd  colored  so  violently  at  this,  that  Mr.  Brown 
and  the  other  clerk  joined  with  Holten  in  teasing  him, 
till  the  day  was  far  spent  before  the  subject  was  forgot- 
ten ;  and  it  would  not  have  been  dropped  even  then, 
but  a  rush  of  custom  put  it  out  of  their  minds. 

They  did  not  revert  to  it  again :  still,  Shepherd  could 
not  help  feeling  anxious  ;  but  as  day  after  day  passed, 
and  nothing  further  was  heard  from  it,  he  at  length 
concluded  that  Holten  had  not  been  able  to  read  aught 
that  the  note  contained,  and  ceased  worrying  about  the 
matter.  In  the  mean  time,  how  fared  it  with  Alice  ? 

To  all  outward  appearances  about  as  usual.  She 
neither  moped  nor  fretted,  but  went  cheerfully  about 
her  accustomed  duties,  as  though  nothing  had  happened 
out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  things  ;  but  one  who 
could  have  looked  beneath  the  surface  would  have  seen 
there  a  calm  determination,  a  firmness  of  purpose,  that 
it  were  not  well  to  oppose. 

Her  father  watched  her  closely.  "  It  can  not  be," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  that  she  is  going  to  yield  so  easily  : 
I  must  keep  my  eye  upon  her,  for  I  fear  she  means 
mischief;"  bt.t  as  week  after  week  passed,  and  he  saw 
no  signs  of  ar  y  communication  between  her  and  Shep- 
herd, le  gradv  tally  relaxed  his  vigilance. 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  67 

Something  more  than  a  month  after  Shepherd  had 
been  thus  s  immarily  ejected  from  the  house,  the  elder 
Vales  were  agreeably  surprised  by  a  visit  from  the  only 
son  of  an  old  friend,  who  was  one  of  the  wealthiest  of 
their  circle  of  acquaintances  in  the  city ;  and,  what  was 
more,  Mr.  Vale  was  well  aware  that  the  elder  Sawtelle 
desired  good  substantial  personal  qualities,  more  than 
he  did  wealth,  as  the  portion  of  the  woman  who  should 
become  the  wife  of  his  son. 

"  Just  the  thing !  just  the  thing-!  "  ejaculated  Mr. 
Vale,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  Young  Sawtelle  is  unex- 
ceptionable in  every  way,  — rich,  handsome,  intelligent : 
and  I'll  warrant  old  Sawtelle  has  sent  him  here  on  pur- 
pose ;  for  those  city  girls  are  of  no  account,  and  ho 
knows  it.  Wife,  if  we  manage  this  thing  right,  we  can 
go  back  to  the  city,  and  take  our  old  place  in  society 
yet." 

"  If  it  could  only  be,  Mr.  Vale,  I  should  like  it  very 
much,"  she  replied ;  "  but  Alice  is  hard  to  manage.  I 
feel  very  certain  that  she  has  not  given  up  Shepherd 
yet,  as  quiet  as  she  is." 

"  Why  ?     What  have  you  seen  ?  " 

"  Not  a  thing  ;  but,  if  she  does  not  carry  her  point,  I 
am  mistaken  in  her." 

"She  shall  not !  She  shall  not !  I  would  rather 
bury  her ! "  he  exclaimed,  starting  up  and  walking 
rapidly  back  and  forth  across  the  room. 

"  O  husband !  Don't  say  such  terrible  things. 
Think  how  you  would  feel  to  see  her  in  her  coffin,  and 
she  our  only  remaining  one." 

"  Better  thus  t  lan  married  to  that  beggar,"  was  the 
irate  reply.  M»s.  Vale  said  nothing  further,  for  she 


68  ALICE   VALE. 

saw  that  it  was  of  no  use  ;  but  her  heart  was  with  her 
child.  Though  a  weak  woman  in  some  respects,  she 
was  all  right  upon  this  point.  Experience  had  taught 
her  the  lesson,  that  wealth  alone  can  not  bring  happiness. 
She  had,  in  her  girlhood,  loved  one  who  was  considered 
beneath  her,  —  had  given  him  up,  and  married  to  please 
her  parents,  while  her  heart  cried  out  at  the  sacrifice : 
consequently,  her  life  had  been  one  of  endurance, 
instead  of  happiness.  Under  the  influence  of  such  a 
memory,  she  hoped,  in  her  secret  soul,  that  Alice  would 
not  yield,  as  she  had  done. 

Her  husband  seemed  to-  feel  something  of  this ;  for, 
suddenly  facing  her,  he  said,  "  Wife,  if  I  know  of  your 
countenancing  that  girl  in  her  folly,  you  will  go  too ;  for 
I  will  not  be  defeated  in  this  thing,  —  I  tell  you  I  will 
not." 

Mrs.  Vale  had  never  seen  her  husband  in  quite  such 
a  state  of  excitement ;  and  it  alarmed  her.  She  hastened 
to  quiet  him,  by  giving  him  every  assurance  in  her  pow- 
er that  she  would  do  nothing  to  thwart,  but  what  she 
could  to  aid  him. 

Alice  was  an  unintentional  listener  to  the  above  con- 
versation between  her  parents  ;  and  she  laid  her  plans 
accordingly.  She  watched  Mr.  Sawtelle  closely  ;  taking 
care,  at  the  same  time,  not  to  give  him  the  least  en- 
couragement. It  was  not  long  before  she  perceived 
that  he  was  interested :  so  much  so  that  the  love-light 
began  to  flash  from  his  eye  at  her  approach  ;  and  she  felt 
that  it  would  not  be  long  ere  he  would  ask  her  father 
for  permission  to  address  her.  And  then  another  note 
found  its  way  into  the  ham's  of  John  Shepherd.  It  ran 
thus,  — 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  69 

DEAR  J  JHN,  —  The  crisis  must  come.  If  Mr.  Saw- 
telle  asks  my  father  for  my  hand  (as  I  feel  that  he 
will),  and  I  refuse,  his  anger  will  be  terrible.  I  had 
hoped,  by  quiet  waiting,  to  soften  down  his  opposition 
to  our  union :  but  I  see  that  it  is  useless  ;  and  the  best 
thing  that  can  be  done  is  to  put  it  beyond  his  power  to 
separate  us.  Have  every  thing  in  readiness,  and  meet 
me  at  Edward  Winchester's  to-morrow  evening  at  eight 
o'clock,  or.  half-past.  Be  very  cautious  in  your  move- 
ments ;  for,  if  discovered  before  it  is  too  late,  father  will 
stop  at  nothing  that  in  his  estimation  would  effectually 
prevent  our  marriage. 

Faithfully  yours,  ALICE. 

This  note  found  its  destination  in  the  same  way  that 
the  first  one  did.  Shepherd,  of  course,  retired  as  soon 
as  possible,  in  order,  to  ascertain  its  contents.  Hoi  ten 
was  watching  him,  for  he  suspected  what  was  going  on. 
Not  that  he  cared ;  but,  as  I  have  said,  he  had  a  purpose 
of  his  own  to  serve.  The  first  one  John  had  put  into 
his  mouth ;  and,  having  been  ejected  therefrom  in  the 
manner  related,  Holten  had  got  possession  of  it.  And, 
though  so  mutilated  that  it  could  not  be  read,  there  were 
two  words,  that,  when  examined  closely,  were  quite 
legible  ;  and  they  were,  "  Destroy  this." 

With  this,  the  second  one,  Shepherd  was  even  more 
unfortunate.  "  I  will  see  this  time,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"  that  it  is  fully  destroyed ;  "  and,  lighting  a  match,  he 
set  it  on  fire.  Just  at  this  moment  Holten  called,  — 

"  Shepherd,  Shepherd,  come  here,  quick !  "  John, 
thinking  the  paper  beyond  recovery,  dropped  it  upon  the 
stove,  and  hastened  to  see  what  was  wanted. 


70  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Oh,  you  are  too  late !  they  have  gone  around  the 
corner." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  oddest-looking  couple  that  you  ever  saw : 
I  should  think  they  had  just  come  out  of  Noah's  Ark." 

"  Who  is  it  that  you  are  speaking  of?  I  saw  no  one 
of  that  description,"  said  the  other  clerk,  who  was  stand- 
ing outside  of  the  door  at  the  time. 

"  Oh  !  you  never  see  any  thing,  old  Sobersides,"  re- 
plied Holten  laughing.  He  then  managed  to  get  the 
two  into  earnest  conversation,  when,  slipping  into  the 
back  room,  he  found  the  piece  of  burnt  paper  upon  the 
stove-hearth.  He  gathered  it  up  quickly  but  carefully, 
and  placed  it  in  his  pocket-book ;  and,  taking  another 
piece,  lighted  it,  and,  putting  it  exactly  on  the  spot 
from  which  he  had  taken  Alice's  note,  watched  it  till  it 
was  consumed.  • 

He  had  barely  left  the  room  when  Shepherd  re- 
turned. Seeing  the  ashes  of  burnt  paper  lying  where 
he  had  left  paper  burning,  he  supposed  that  all  was 
right,  and  gave  no  further  thought  to  the  matter. 

Holten,  as  soon  as  he  had  the  opportunity,  examined 
that  which  he  had  saved,  and  found  only  these  words 
legible :  "  Be  very  cautious  in  your  movements ;  for, 
if  discovered  "  — 

"I'm  in  luck,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  put  it  care- 
fully aside. 

It  was  less  than  a  week  after  these  events,  that  Saw- 
telle  sought  Alice  for  the  purpose  of  asking  her  to  be 
his  wife.  She  read  his  purpose  in  his  eye,  as  he  ap- 
proached her,  and  sought  to  avoid  him. 

"  Do  not  turn  from  me,  dear  girl,"  said  he.     "  I  have 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  71 

the  permission  of  your  parents  to  address  you ;  and  it 
only  needs  that  you  consent  to  be  mine  to  make  me  the 
happiest  of  men." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Mr.  Sawtelle  ;  but 
what  you  ask  can  never  be,"  she  replied  calmly  but 
firmly. 

"  Oil,  do  not  say  that !  Take  back  your  cruel  words," 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  passionate  earnestness  that  fairly 
startled  her.  Still,  her  self-possession  did  not  forsake 
her ;  and  she  answered  as  calmly  as  before,  — 

"  It  would  be  cruel  for  me  to  say  otherwise,  or  in 
any  manner  to  give  you  the  least  hope.  Mr.  Sawtelle, 
I  have  striven  to  avoid  this ;  for  it  is  not  a  pleasant  po- 
sition for  me  to  be  placed  in.  The  thought  of  giving 
you  pain  is,  of  itself,  painful,  for  I  know  of  no  one  that 
I  more  fully  respect ;  but  added  to  this  is  my  father's 
certain  displeasure,  —  a  displeasure  so  deep  that  I  ex- 
pect lie  will  forbid  me  his  house,  perhaps  disown  and 
cast  me  off  for  ever.  Indeed,  sir,  you  are  not  the  only 
sufferer." 

"  But  why  need  either  of  us  suffer  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Sawtelle,  would  you  take  to  your  bosom  an 
unloving  wife  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  should  not  wish  to  ;  but  why  not  give  me 
a  chance  to  win  your  love  ?  " 

"  I  have  none  to  give  you,  for  it  is  bestowed  upon 
another." 

"  Irrevocably  ?  " 

"  So  irrevocably  that  nought  but  death  can  separate 
us." 

"  Nothing  but  death  ?  "  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
look  of  inquiry. 


72  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Those  are  the  conditions  of  marriage,  —  are  they 
not  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  married, 
Miss  Vale  ! " 

"I  do,"  she  replied. 

The  young  man  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and 
groaned  aloud;  while  Alice,  feeling  that  her  presence 
was  no  longer  needed,  sought  her  room,  and  began  to 
make  preparations  for  the  storm  of  wrath  that  she  knew 
must  so  soon  burst  upon  her. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  tell  her  mother ;  but,  on  second 
thought,  concluded  that  it  was  not  best  to  trouble  her 
sooner  than  was  necessaty.  Quickly  packing  her  best 
clothing  and  a  few  choice  keepsakes  into  as  small  a 
compass  as  possible,  she  dropped  them  out  of  the  window 
into  the  back-yard ;  and  then,  descending  thither  herself, 
she  hid  them  in  a  safe  place  in  the  loft  of  the  stable  c 
"  For,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  father  will  be  so  angry  that 
he  will  not  permit  me  to  take  a  thing,  and  mother  will  not 
dare  to  interfere  in  my  behalf."  This  done,  she  sat 
down  to  wait  the  course  of  events. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Sawtelle,  having  recovered 
somewhat  from  the  shock  that  her  announcement  gave 
him,  began  to  make  preparations  for  his  departure  to  the 
city ;  and  Mr.  Vale,  coming  home  earlier  than  usual, 
found  him  thus  employed. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Robert  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  means  that  there  is  no  hope  for  me." 

"  She  has  not  refused  you  ?  " 

"  She  has." 

"  Tut,  tut,  man :  you  are  too  easily  disheartened. 
Wait:  she  will  come  to  terms  yet."  He  had  forced  him- 


THE  CLOUD  PISING.  73 

self  to  speak  calmly ;  but  the  flash  of  his  eye,  and  the 
palor  about  his  lips,  told  of  the  storm  within. 

The  young  man  looked  up,  and  opened  his  lips  to 
speak :  then,  as  if  upon  second  thought,  closed  them 
again,  and  went  on  with  his  work* 

"  What  is  it,  man  ?  speak  out." 

Sawtelle  shook  his  head ;  but,  upon  further  importun- 
ing, said, — 

"  You  must  learn  it  sooner  or  later,  Mr.  Vale :  she 
tells  me  that  she  is  already  married." 

Had  an  earthquake  opened  at  his  feet,  or  a  thunder- 
bolt exploded  in  their  midst,  the  effect  could  not  have 
been  more  startling  than  was  this  announcement  upon 
Mr.  Vale. 

He  reeled  as  though  struck  by  a  heavy  blow,  stag- 
gered to  the  nearest  seat,  and  fell  rather  than  sat  down. 
"  Married  !  "  he  repeated,  like  one  bewildered,  —  "  mar- 
ried ! " 

"  That  is  what  she  told  me,"  answered  Sawtelle,  for- 
getting his  own  disappointment  in  pity  for  the  father. 

However,  this  mood  lasted  but  a  minute  ;  and  then 
anger  took  the  sway.  "  The  disobedient  jade  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  told  her  I  would  do  it ;  and  I  will.  This  is 
no  longer  a  home  for  her."  And  going  immediately  to 
her  room,  he  confronted  her  with,  — 

"  Alice,  are  you  a  married  woman  ?  " 

«« I  am,  father." 

"  Leave  this  house,  then,  and  never  dare  to  enter  it 
again." 

"  I  will  obey  you,  father,  until  you  see  proper  to  re- 
call your  stern  mandate,"  said  she,  commencing  to 
gather  up  her  things. 


74  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Not  a  thing,  —  not  a  thing,  —  my  lady.  Go  as  you 
are,  and  let  the  beggar  you  have  married  provide  for 

you." 

"Would  you  have  me  go  bareheaded  through  the 
streets,  father  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  to  me  ?  you  are  no  longer  a  child  of 
mine." 

Alice  paled.  She  had  expected  this,  but  the  reality 
was  worse  than  the  anticipation.  Forcing  a  calmness 
she  did  not  feel,  she  turned,  and  walked  out  of  the  room 
and  down  the  stairs.  Her  father  followed  her  ;  and,  as 
she  was  about  to  go  into  her  mother's  room,  he  said, 
"  Not  there  !  not  there  !  "  pointing  at  the  same  time  to 
the  outer  door. 

This  last  act  aroused  her  anger.  What !  not  even 
permitted  to  speak  one  farewell  to  her  mother  ?  With 
flashing  eye,  she  confronted  him.  "  You  will  regret 
this,  sir,  when  it  is  too  late  ;  "  then,  with  a  firm  step,  she 
walked  out  the  front  door,  down  the  walk,  through  the 
gate,  into  the  street. 

Mr.  Vale  watched  her  till  he  saw  the  gate  closed  be- 
hind her,  and  then  he  sought  his  wife's  room.  "  Mrs. 
Vale,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  he  thought 
she  derived  all  her  importance  from  the  fact  that  she 
was  Mrs.  Vale,  —  "  Mrs.  Vale,"  —  then  pausing  till  he 
could  get  her  eye  fully,  —  "  did  you  know  aught  of 
this  ?  "  he  continued. 

"  Know  aught  of  what?  "  she  asked  wonderingly. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Alice  was  married  ?  " 

"  Married :  no,  it  can't  be  possible  !  When  ?  where  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  ask  her  when,  nor  where.  It  was  enough 
that  she  acknowledged  the  fact.  It  is  well  for  you  that 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  75 

you  had  no  hand  in  it,  or  I  would  have  sent  you  after 
her." 

"  After  her  ?  where  is  she  ?  " 

"  in  the  street ;  and  she  will  stay  there  unless  she  finds 
shelter  elsewhere." 

Mrs.  Vale  arose  to  her  feet.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  married  life,  her  spirit  was  fully  aroused.  Walking 
up  to  her  husband,  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and, 
looking  him  full  in  the  face,  she  said,  — 

"  William  Vale,  you  have  not  turned  our  child,  our 
only  one,  into  the  street  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  have  ;  and  you  will  follow  her  if  you  are 
not  careful." 

"  As  I  certainly  shall  if  you  do  not  recall  her." 

This  was  more  than  the  man  had  dreamed  of.  Not 
only  had  his  child  defeated  his  plans,  but  his  wife  defied 
him,  —  the  woman  who  had  always  submitted  to  his  will, 
and  from  whom  he  had  expected  only  submission,  —  that 
woman  was  daring  to  have  a  will  of  her  own. 

"  William,"  said  she,  seeing  him  hesitate,  "I  have 
always  been  a  good,  faithful  wife  to  you,  as  you  well 
know ;  and  have  I  no  rights  here  that  you  are  bound  to 
respect,  that  you  should  thus  turn  our  child,  my  child, 
from  our  door,  without  permitting  her  even  to  see  her 
mother  ?  Surely,  it  is  not  your  own  proper  self  that 
acts :  you  are  blind  with  excitement.  Oh,  say  that  you 
will  recall  her  before  this  thing  goes  any  further  !  " 

"  Recall  her,  — never?  "  he  fairly  shouted.  "  You  are 
just  fit,  both  of  you,  to  go  out  lecturing  upon  woman's 
rights  ;  and  I'll  have  no  such  fanatical  nonsense  about 
my  house.  Why  didn't  you  say  my  door^  as  well  as  my 
child?" 


76  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Mr.  Vale,  you  say  my  house  ;  and,  if  man  and  wife 
are  one,  I  have  as  good  a  right  to  say  it  as  you :  but  I 
ask  once  more,  and  for  the  last  tune,  will  you  permit 
our  child  to  return  ?  " 

"  And  for  the  last  tune,  madam,  I  tell  you  I  never 
will." 

"  Then  I,  too,  shall  go  ;  but  first  I  will  tell  you  that 
which  I  never  intended  to  reveal  to  any  one,  much  less 
to  yourself.  William  Vale,  you  have,  for  the  most 
part,  been  a  kind  husband,  as  the  world  calls  kindness. 
When  one  has  their  own  way,  it  is  easy  to  be  good ;  and 
you  have  always  had  it  as  far  as  I  am  concerned :  but 
had  I  been  as  true  to  my  own  heart  as  our  child  has 
been  to  hers,  I  had  never  married  you. 

"  I  followed  the  wishes  of  my  parents,  instead  of  my 
own  ;  and  oh  !  how  many,  many  times  during  the  first 
years  of  our  marriage,  did  I  say  to  myself,  '  If  I  had  it 
to  do  again,  my  hand  should  go  with  my  heart.  I  had 
sealed  my  own  fate,  however ;  and  there  was  no  going 
back  from  the  sacrifice  I  had  made  :  but  our  child  has 
been  firm,  and  from  my  inmost  soul  I  am  glad  of  it." 

"  And  pray  who  was  it  upon  whom  you  had  placed 
your  virgin  affections  ?  "  asked  he  with  a  sneer. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  as  if  debating  the  ques- 
tion, and  then  replied,  "  Robert  Sawtelle's  father ;  and 
now  farewell,  for  this  is  no  place  for  me  after  the  reve- 
lation I  have  made."  Saying  this,  she  walked  deliber- 
ately out  of  the  room ;  but,  just  as  she  had  closed  the 
door  behind  her,  her  steps  were  arrested  by  the  sound 
of  a  heavy  fall.  On  going  back  to  learn  the  cause,  she 
found  Mr.  Vale  lying  upon  the  floor,  with  the  blood  gush- 
ina  from  his  nostrils.  The  excitement  had  been  too  in- 


THE  CLOUD  RISING.  77 

tense  :  nature  had  giv*  n  way,  and  the  strong  man  was 
prostrate. 

The  screams  of  Mrs.  Vale  brought  the  neighbors. 
The  doctor  was  called ;  but  it  was  too  late.  He  had 
broken  a  blood-vessel ;  and  Alice  had  not  been  absent 
more  than  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  she  was 
summoned  back  to  look  upon  her  father's  corpse. 


78  ALICE  VALE. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

TELLING    TALES. 

"  Dead  men  can  tell  no  tales,"  'tis  said  ; 
When  lo  !  the  voice  of  nature  cries, 
"  Mistaken  man,  there  are  no  dead." 

j  AR  away  en  the  borders  of  some  Western 
prairie,  where  to-day  there  is  no  habita- 
tion but  such  as  the  wolf  or  the  fox,  and 
kindred  animals,  furnish  for  themselves, 
to-morrow  there  may  be  a  rude  cabin, 
and  the  next  day  four  or  five  ;  the  next  week  a  score  ; 
and,  ere  a  year  has  rolled  around,  the  wilderness  of 
flowers  will  have  given  place  to  a  wilderness  of  houses. 
It  is  to  such  a  place  as  this,  —  one  that  had  sprung  up 
almost  in  a  night,  but  not,  like  Jonah's  gourd,  to  wither 
in  a  night,  —  that  I  would  now  call  your  attention. 

People  were  coming  from  all  directions.  North, 
South,  East,  and  West,  each  furnished  its  quota.  The 
shrewd  Yankee,  the  phlegmatic  Englishman,  the  lively 
Frenchman,  the  honest  German,  the  witty  Irishman, — 
all,  all,  from  whatever  source  they  came,  —  found  a 
welcome  here. 

All,  did  I  say  ?  I  am  not  quite  so  sure  of  that ;  for 
there  was  one,  a  motherless  girl,  who  had  journeyed 
from  the  hills  of  old  Massachusetts  to  find  a  home  in 
this  Western  city,  who  gave  the  good  people  thereof  a 


TELLING   TALES.  79 

great  deal  of  uneasiness.  There  was  nothing  formidable 
in  her  appearance.  Her  mild  blue  eye  gave  no  indica- 
tion of  evil :  still,  they  were  troubled  at  her  presence, 
watched  her  closely,  and  said  many  things  of  her  that 
had  no  foundation  in  truth. 

Church-people  asserted  that  she  was  in  league  with 
the  Devil,  or  rather  under  his  control ;  others  that  she 
was  insane,  or  fast  becoming  so ;  still  others,  that  she 
was  a  cheat,  a  sort  of  juggler,  a  hypocrite,  one  who  pre- 
tended that  which  was  not,  or  which  had  no  other 
origin  than  her  own  cunning:  in  fact,  the  whole  city 
was  moved  by  the  presence  of  this  one  feeble  woman, 
and  questioned  one  with  another  as  to  the  result  of  her 
coming. 

But  what  said  she  of  herself  ?  what  was  her  testimony 
in  the  case  ? 

Why,  that  she  was  a  mediator,  or  medium  of  com- 
munication between  the  two  worlds,  —  the  physical  and 
the  spiritual ;  that  those  who  once  lived  upon  the  earth, 
but  are  now  in  the  world  of  spirits,  —  that  such  could 
control  her  person,  take  possession  of  her  organs  of 
speech,  and  talk  with  those  who  were  still  in  the 
flesh. 

Such  was  her  claim ;  and  such  is  the  hunger  of  the 
masses  for  some  knowledge  of  the  great  hereafter,  for 
soine  word  from  the  to  them  silent  ones,  that  the 
anathemas  of  the  church,  the  cry  of  Devil,  the  charge 
of  insanity,  nor  the  laugh  of  derision,  often  the  most 
potent  of  all,  could  keep  her  rooms  from  being 
thronged.  The  Nicodemuses  came  by  night  ;  while 
sad,  sinning,  sorrowing  ones  —  those  who  had  little  of 
the  world's  favor  to  lose  —  came  boldly  and  at  all  hours ; 


80  ALICE   VALE. 

and,  like  the  Na^rene  of  old,  she  received  them  all. 
And  like  him,  too,  she  was  scandalized  for  so  doing. 

Those  who  came  by  night  were  generally  from  the 
churches.  At  one  time  it  would  be  the  minister,  who, 
sitting  with  closed  doors,  would  apologize  for  the  secrecy 
desired,  by  saying,  "  I  am  willing  to  investigate  this 
subject,  but  do  not  wish  to  lose  my  influence  over  my 
people ;  and  the  masses  are  so  easily  prejudiced."  The 
next  evening,  perhaps,  or  at  some  hour  when  they 
thought  they  would  not  be  seen,  some  of  the  members 
would  make  their  way  thither  with,  — 

"  We  want  to  understand  this  matter  for  ourselves ; 
but  don't  say  any  thing  about  it,  for  I  don't  know  what 
our  minister  would  think." 

But  of  the  many  seances  held,  and  the  many  con- 
vincing tests  given  of  the  reality  of  spirit  presence,  we 
will  look  in  upon,  and  make  public,  the  occurrences  of 
but  one  evening.  It  is  a  select  circle  of  six  that  have 
met.  They  have  sat  together  from  time  to  time,  till  the 
conditions  of  harmony  have  been  established ;  and,  by 
the  especial  request  of  the  controlling  spirit,  some  two 
or  three  strangers  have  been  admitted  to  the  room. 
Amongst  these  is  an  old  man  of  perhaps  sixty  years  of 
age,  who  had  come  into  the  place  that  very  day,  and 
was  stopping  at  the  house  where  the  circle  was  held ; 
and  another,  who  had  been  in  the  city  only  a  week,  and 
might  have  been  five  or  six  years  younger.  Of  the 
first,  those  present  knew  absolutely  nothing,  but  that  he 
had  given  his  name  as  Waldo.  The  second  one  had 
given  a  false  name  on  purpose,  as  he  said,  to  test  the 
matter. 

T.iere  was  still  a  third,  a  young  man  ;  but  with  him 


TELLING   TALES.  81 

tl.ey  were  slightly  acquainted.  These  were  not  in  the 
circle,  but  only  in  the  room.  The  circle  was  formed ; 
the  medium  was  controlled;  and  the  very  first  move- 
ment she  made  was  to  rise  from  the  table,  take  the 
attitude  of  a  half-drunken  bar-room  bully,  and  pour 
forth  a  volume  of  oaths. 

The  members  of  the  circle  were  astonished,  for  they 
had  seen  nothing  of  this  kind  before  ;  while  the  stran- 
gers could  hardly  restrain  their  feelings  of  contempt; 
and  he  who  had  given  a  false  name  was  heard  to 
whisper,  "  That  is  the  devil,  I  know." 

And,  indeed,  it  did  look  hard  to  hear  the  big  oath 
coming  from  these  lovely  lips  ;  but  presently  there  was 
a  change.  The  medium  approached  the  gentleman 
who  had  given  his  name  as  Waldo,  seeming  desirous  to 
speak  to  him,  but  afraid  to  do  so ;  while  the  look  was  no 
longer  bold  and  defiant,  but  that  of  a  humble  suppliant. 

There  was  such  an  evident  shrinking,  that  a  member 
of  the  circle  said,  "  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  that  gentle- 
man :  speak  to  him  if  you  wish." 

Thus  encouraged,  the  following  conversation  was  held 
between  the  controlling  spirit  and  the  aged  stranger :  — 

"  Do  you  recollect  keeping  a  public  house  in  Cherry 
Green  some  years  since,  Mr.  Waldo  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  was  the  reply. 

4i  Do  you  remember  a  young  man  by  the  name  cf 
James  Jordan,  who  used  to  visit  your  bar,  and  drink, 
not  to  drunkenness,  but  till  so  boisterous  that  you  had 
to  put  Tiim  out  ?  " 

"  I  remember  it  well,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  your  barns  were  burned 
shortly  after,  and  you  never  knew  who  did  it  ?  " 


82  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Certainly  I  do :  that  fire  so  nearly  broke  me  up, 
that  I  have  not  recovered  from  its  effects  yet." 

"  Well,  I  am  that  young  man,"  was  continued,  in 
tones  of  deep  contrition  :  "  I  burned  your  barns.  I  have 
been  in  the  spirit-world  four  years,  and  have  been  look- 
ing constantly  for  some  means  of  reaching  you,  in  order 
to  confess  my  wrong-doing,  and  beg  your  forgiveness ; 
for  I  could  not  get  away  from  earth  and  earth-scenes, 
could  not  progress  one  step,  till  I  had  done  so." 

Deep  solemnity  had  by  this  time  taken  the  place  of 
other  feelings  in  the  circle :  while  he  who  had  sneered 
turned  pale,  even  to  the  lips ;  for  his  most  secret  thought 
was,  "  If  they  can  come  and  confess  their  own  sins,  they 
can,  if  they  choose,  point  out  ours ; "  and,  as  if  in  re- 
sponse to  these  thoughts,  the  medium  turned  directly 
toward  him,  and  said,  "  Yes,  they  can." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments ;  and  then  one 
of  the  circle  said,  "  Compensation,  compensation :  as 
far  as  the  condition  of  things  make  it  possible,  such 
seems  to  be  the  order  of  the  universe.  Never  did  I  see 
such  force  in  the  words  of  Jesus,  '  If  thou  bringest  thy 
gift  to  the  altar,  and  rememberest  that  thy  brother  hath 
?  aght  against  thee,  go  thy  way,  first  be  reconciled  to 
hy  brother,  and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift.'  Never 
did  I  see  such  force  in  them  as  now.  They  seem  to 
hold  good  of  both  worlds." 

"  But  why,"  asked  another,  "  was  it  necessary  that 
the  manifestation  should  commence  as  it  did  ?  Why 
those  oaths  ?  " 

"  We  think  there  are  various  reasons  for  this ;  but 
we  will  question  the  spirit  on  this  subject.  James,  can 
you  tell  us  why  this  is  ?  "  said  the  leader  of  the  circle. 


TELLING   TALES.  S3 

"  I  will  try,  sir.  Did  you  never  get  to  thinking  so 
intently  upon  some  exciting  scene  in  your  past  life,  that 
you  seemed  really  to  live  it  all  over,  even  to  the 
minutest  incident  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  have  ;  and  I  think  that  most  people  have 
experienced  the  same,"  was  the  response. 

"  Do  you  not  know,  also,  that  those  persons  who  can 
enter  most  fully  into  the  feelings  of  those  they  repre- 
sent make  the  best  actors  ?  " 

"  True,  true,"  was  uttered  simultaneously  by  some 
three  or  four. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  spirit,  "  the  difference  between 
us  and  actors  is  this  :  they  act  out  the  feelings  of  another 
through  their  own  bodies  ;  we  act  out  our  feelings  through 
the  body  of  another.  Now,  it  is  a  difficult  matter  for 
one  to  act  through  the  body  of  another,  as  you  can 
readily  imagine ;  and,  to  communicate  what  we  wish,  it 
becomes  necessary  that  we  go  back  and  live  over  those 
scenes  so  thoroughly  that  we  can  send  the  same  sensa- 
tions through  the  body  of  the  medium  ;  and,  further,  we 
are  the  more  readily  recognized  by  acting  our  own 
selves  than  by  simple  statements." 

"  That  is  true,  as  far  as  identity  is  concerned,"  said 
Mr.  Waldo  :  "  for  another,  who  knew  of  the  facts,  might 
have  made  the  same  statement,  and  claimed  to  be  the 
same  person  ;  but  it  would  take  an  accomplished  actor  to 
personate  James  Jordan  as  thoroughly  as  did  the  me- 
dium when  she  was  first  controlled." 

"  I  thought  you  had  not  progressed,  James,"  said  an- 
other of  the  circle  :  "  it  seems  to  me  that  you  must  have 
learned  considera  )le,  to  be  able  to  explain  this  subject 
to  us  as  you  have  " 


84  ALICE   VALE. 

"  I  said  I  could  not  progress  till  I  had  made  all  the 
reparation  in  my  power  :  neither  could  I,  in  the  common 
acceptation  of  the  term ;  but,  in  order  to  communicate, 
I  must  learn  to  control  for  myself  or  have  assistance. 
Now,  my  organization,  my  relation  to  the  one  wronged, 
and  other  conditions  that  I  can  not  now  explain,  made 
it  necessary  for  my  best  good  that  I  should  not  have 
help  :  consequently  I  had  to  learn  the  law  of  control ; 
and,  having  learned,  can  tell,  as  it  was  a  characteristic 
of  mine,  that  of  being  able  to  tell  what  I  knew." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Waldo ;  "  for  it  was  a  com- 
mon saying,  that  Jim  Jordan  could  tell  all  he  knew, 
and  more  too." 

"  But  I  can  not,  in  this  case,  see  the  force  of  the  argu- 
ment, that  acting  out  his  old  character  was  better  proof 
of  his  identity  than  his  simple  statement  would  have 
been  ;  for  who  would  be  likely  to  confess  to  wrongs  that 
he  never  did  ? "  said  the  one  who  had  given  a  false 
name. 

"  I  would,"  said  a  voice  that  was  the  very  expression 
of  duplicity  and  meanness.  All  turned  to  look  at  the 
medium,  and  were  surprised  at  the  transformation.  She 
had  taken  a  seat,  and  was  pegging  away  as  if  her  life 
depended  upon  the  immediate  finishing  *of  the  work  in 
hand,  while  her  features  were  those  of  a  little  weazen- 
faced  old  man. 

The  young  man,  who  was  not  a  member  of  the  circle, 
had  not  spoken  until  now ;  but,  upon  hearing  this,  he 
laughed  aloud,  and  then  asked,  "  Why  would  you  do 
that,  Bob?" 

"  Because  I  should  like  to  fool  the  people.  But  who 
is  it  that  calls  me  Bob  ?  I  would  have  you  know,  sir, 


TELLING   TALES.  85 

that  I  im  Roger  Sherman,  the  most  famous  shoemaker 
that  ever  lived  in  this  country." 

"  You  are  unfortunate,  then,  in  your  attempts  to  make 
yourself  known :  for  I  say  that  you  are  Robert  Peri- 
grene,  my  father's  cousin,  commonly  called  Bob  ;  and, 
when  here,  you  were  such  a  liar,  that  '  Lies  as  bad  as 
Bob  Perigrene,'  was  a  common  saying  in  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  but  Avhat  brought  you  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  That  man,"  was  the  reply,  as  the  finger  of  the  me- 
dium pointed  toAvard  the  stranger  with  a  false  name.  "  I 
like  good  company,  and  thought  I  had  a  right  to  tell  a 
lie  as  well  as  he." 

The  stranger  turned  very  red  in  the  face.  "  I  will 
own,"  said  he,  "  that  I  have  not  given  my  true  name  : 
still,  I  have  seen  nothing  here  to-night  that  is  convincing 
to  me  ;  for  I  do  not  know  but  there  may  be  collusion.  If 
they  will  tell  me  my  true  name,  I  will  believe." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  said  Bob,  in  his  own  peculiar 
tones  ;  "  but  there  is  one  here  who  says  he  will  tell  you 
when  the  lady  comes." 

"What  lady?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  she  will  come." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that,  either ;  but  I  don't  like  this  uni- 
form, and  I  must  leave." 

;'  Why  lo  you  not  like  it  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  hard  work  to  tell  a  lie  in  it :  it  wasn't 
made  for  such  as  me,  and  the  truth  will  come  out  when 
I  have  it  on.  Good-by.  If  you  want  any  shoes  made, 
call  on  me.  and  they  will  certainly  be  done  at  the  time 
promised  ;  for  I  never  disappoint  a  customer." 

This  last  caused  a  general  laugh,  while  the  influence 


86  ALICE   VALE. 

changed  again.  This  time  there  was  nothing  said ;  but 
the  medium  seized  a  pencil  and  wrote,  — 

"  Come  here  again  when  you  return.  —  M.  S."  And 
handed  it  to  the  one  who  had  asked  for  his  true  name. 

"  And  who  is  M.  S.  ?  "  asked  he,  when  he  had  read 
it. 

Again  the  pencil  was  taken ;  and  it  was  written,  "  You 
will  know  in  good  tune."  He  seemed  about  to  question 
further;  but,  at  the  moment,  a.  change  went  over  his 
countenance,  as  though  — 

Memory's  cords  were  swept  by  hands  unseen, — 
By  hands  that  rudely  tore  aside  the  vail 
Which  covered  the  forgotten  past,  — 
By  him  forgotten  :  God  remembers  all. 

The  influence  now  left  the  medium ;  and  the  circle 
was  closed  till  the  time  appointed  for  another  meeting. 

The  stranger  last  referred  to  left  the  next  day  to  go 
still  farther  west :  was  absent  for  several  months  ;  but, 
whon  he  returned,  he  again  sought  the  circle.  What 
then  occurred  is  reserved  for  a  future  chapter. 


A  RIFT  IN  THE  CLOUD. 


87 


CHAPTER  VII. 


\.VE  you  not  seen,  when  the  thunder 
had  sped  its  bolt,  the  storm  roll  back  from 
one  side  of  the  heavens,  letting  in  the 
sunshine  to  build  a  rainbow  bridge  upon 
which  hope  could  travel  from  one  end  of 
the  earth  to  the  other  ? 

And  thus  it  was  with  Alice  for  a  few  months  after 
the  death  of  her  father.  True,  the  storm  was  not  past ; 
pearly  drops  fell  plentifully  and  often  :  but  the  beauti- 
ful reflection  of  as  true  a  love  as  ever  warmed  the  human 
heart  arched  the  blackness  that  was  past,  and  hope 
promised  brightly  for  the  future. 

We  find,  however,  that,  in  the  physical  world,  sun- 
shine and  rain  together  indicate  another  storm, .  and 
that  not  far  away  ;  but  we  must  not  anticipate. 

In  a  preceding  chapter,  we  left  Alice  beside  her 
father's  corpse.  Let  us  enter  more  minutely  into  the 
particulars  of  that  sorrowful  hour,  that  we  may  thus, 
one  by  one,  trace  the  links  that  connected  her  life  with 
the  future. 

Mrs.  Vale  was  nearly  frantic  when  she  found  that 
her  husband  was  really  dead.  The  temporary  strength 
that  had  caused  her  aelf-assertion  forsook  her  entirely, 
and  she  reproached  herself  most  bitterly  for  the  part 
she  had  acted. 


88  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Oh !  why,"  she  moaned,  "  did  I  not  suffer  on  in  si- 
lence ?  It  was  not  his  fault  that  I  married  him,  not 
loving  him.  I  wronged  him  cruelly  in  so  doing ;  and  I 
deserved  to  suffer." 

Alice  was,  as  usual,  self-possessed :  still,  her  heart 
sank  within  her  when  she  looked  upon  the  result  of 
her  perseverance,  of  her  assertion  of  her  own  personal 
rights  ;  but  what  she  thus  gathered  of  her  mother's 
heart-history  through  the  broken  and  half-incoherent 
sentences  uttered  in  that  hour  of  anguish  made  her 
feel  that  it  was  better,  even  thus,  than  that  she  had 
sacrificed  herself  and  wronged  another  by  entering  into 
the  holiest  of  life's  relations  in  such  a  manner  as  would 
%ave  made  her  whole  life  a  living  lie. 

It  was  found,  upon  the  examination  of  Mr.  Yale's 
bnsiness  affairs,  that  he  was  insolvent,  or  so  nearly  so 
that  it  would  take  every  thing  there  was  to  meet  the 
obligations  against  him.  This  was  doubtless  one  reason 
why  he  was  so  intent  upon  a  wealthy  marriage  for  Alice. 
It  was  his  last  hope,  —  his  left  bower ;  and,  when  she 
covered  it  with  the  right  one  of  her  own  personal  inde- 
pendence, the  game  was  lost,  and  it  was  more  than  he 
could  endure. 

It  was  a  sad  thought  to  the  affectionate  but  firm- 
hearted  daughter,  but  still  more  sad  to  witness  the  con- 
dition to  which  his  sudden  death  had  brought  her 
mother ;  for  living  trouble  is  harder  to  be  borne  than 
that  which  death  has  placed  beyond  our  reach. 

Mrs.  Vale  was  so  completely  broken  down,  so  under 
the  dominion  of  self-reproach,  that  it  required  all  of 
Alice's  tact  and  self-possession  to  keep  that  last  scene 
in  the  room  when  Mr.  Vale  fell  from  being  made  pub- 


A  RIFT  IN  THE  CLOUD.  89 

He.  John  Shepherd,  as  the  husband  of  Alice,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  took  charge  of  affairs ;  and,  when  all 
was  settled,  it  was  found  that  there  was  very  little,  ex- 
cept his  own  salary  as  a  clerk,  for  the  support  of  both 
Alice  and  her  mother. 

This  troubled  him  :  not  on  his  own  account ;  but  he 
feared,  that,  with  the  mother  also  to  care  for,  he  should 
not  be  able  to  make  both  as  comfortable  as  he  would  like. 
But  Alice  smilingly  said,  — 

"  Poverty  is  not  the  worst  thing  in  the  world,  John. 
'  Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  than  a  stalled 
ox  and  hatred  therewith.'  If  mother  can  have  what  she 
needs,  I  shall  not  care  for  myself," 

"  Bless  you,  my  own  dear  wife !  "  he  replied  ;  "  but 
when  I  think  of  the  wealth  that  would  have  been  yours 
had  you  married  Sawtelle,  I  "  — 

"You  wish  I  had  married  him,"  said  Alice  mis- 
chievously. 

"  No,  no,  not  that ;  for  what  would  my  life  have  been 
without  you  !  But  surely  I  were  a  wretch,  did  I  not 
feel  that  I  could  never  sufficiently  prize  the  love  that 
chose  poverty  with  me  to  wealth  with  him." 

"  Nonsense,  John  :  don't  go  to  getting  up  any  heroics 
now.  I  am  sure  there  was  no  great  credit  in  taking 
that  which  I  preferred  when  I  had  my  choice,"  she 
replied,  in  a  tone  of  deprecation  that  was  perfectly  en- 
'ehanting  to  the  young  husband ;  and,  catching  her  to  his 
heart,  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  God  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  my  darling  wife, 
if  I  ever  prove  otherwise  than  a  kind  and  faithful  hus- 
band to  you !  " 

Edward  Winchester  and  Addie  stood  their  firm  friends 


90  ALICE   VALE. 

in  this  their  hour  of  trial ;  and,  after  due  deliberation,  it 
was  decided  that  it  would  be  better  for  them  to  leave  the 
place  connejted  with  such  unpleasant  associations,  and 
start  anew  elsewhere. 

Winchester  had  friends  living  in  the  village  of  Bates- 
ville,  some  fifty  miles  distant ;  and  through  his  influence 
a  clerkship  was  secured  for  Shepherd  in  the  largest 
store  there,  and  at  a  better  salary  than  he  was  getting 
at  Brown's.  In  a  few  weeks,  they  were  established  in 
their  new  home,  where  Mrs.  Vale,  under  the  influence 
of  new  surroundings  and  new  cares,  became  compara- 
tively cheerful,  while  Alice,  but  for  the  too  recent  sad 
memories,  would  have  been  as  blithe  as  a  bird. 

An  intimate  friend  of  Shepherd's  had  taken  his  old 
place  ;  and,  from  the  correspondence  held  with  him  and 
the  Winchesters,  they  were  kept  well  informed  as  to 
what  was  going  on  in  Ellsville.  Things  prospered  with 
them  in  their  new  home.  Alice,  by  economy  and  indus- 
try, added  to  their  weekly  gains ;  and,  as  the  past  slipped 
farther  away,  the  present  continued  to  grow  brighter, 
till  at  length  the  dark  cloud  lay  only  on  the  confines  of 
the  horizon,  —  not  even  high  enough  for  a  background 
to  the  rainbow  that  was  no  longer  needed. 

But  how  often  have  we  seen  a  storm,  that  had  spent 
but  a  portion  of  its  fury,  pass  on,  only  to  return  with 
redoubled  violence  ;  and  thus  it  was  in  their  case.  The 
dark  cloud  that  "  Crazy  Pete  "  had  told  Alice  of  so 
long  before  had  cast  only  a  portion  of  its  shadow  upon 
her  spirit :  the  depth  of  its  blackness  was  yet  to  come. 

The  first  indication  she  received  that  the  "  indigna- 
tion "  was  not  past  was  in  the  steady  failure  of  her 
mother's  healtl .  Mrs.  Vale's  nervous  system  had  re- 


A  RIFT  IN  THE   CLOUD.  91 

celved  si  ch  a  shock  that  it  could  not  recover  its  tone 
again.  True,  there  was  a  temporary  rally  during  the 
excitement  consequent  upon  changing  her  residence, 
going  among  new  scenes,  making  new  acquaintances, 
&c. ;  but,  this  over,  there  came  the  reaction.  It  was  so 
gradual,  however,  that  Alice  for  a  long  time  did  not 
notice  it ;  and,  when  she  did,  she  would  fain  believe  that 
it  was  nothing  serious,  - —  nothing  but  what  medicine  and 
tender  care  would  relieve ;  but,  when  the  doctor  was 
spoken  of  to  the  invalid,  she  utterly  refused  to  see 
him. 

"  It  will  do  no  good,"  she  said :  "  he  can  not  minister 
to  a  mind  diseased." 

"  O  mother  !  "  said  Alice,  "  why  will  you  talk  thus  ? 
You  were  not  to  blame ;  and  the  past  can  not  be  reme- 
died." 

"  I  was  more  to  blame,  my  child,  than  you  think.  It 
is  the  last  drop  that  makes  the  cup  overflow ;  and,  in 
my  love  for  you,  I  forgot  that  he,  too,  had  claims  upon 
me.  I  know  that  he  was  doing  wrong :  but  lie  was  ex- 
cited and  bitterly  disappointed :  and  what  right  had  I,  at 
such  a  time  above  all  others,  to  tell  him  that  I  had  per- 
jured myself  at  the  altar,  —  had  given  him  my  hand 
without  my  heart?  " 

"  But  you  were  excited,  too,  mother :  why  not  make 
some  allowance  for  yourself  for  doing  wrong  under 
excitement,  as  well  as  for  others  ?  " 

"But  mine  was  a  life-long  wrong,  carefully  concealed 
till  the  time  that  he  could  least  bear  it.  O  Alice  !  your 
father  was  not  to  blame  in  this  :  he  did  not  know  that 
he  had  wedded  an  unwilling  bride.  If  I  had  only 
bt  in  firm,  had  been  true  to  myself,  he  might  have  found 


92  ALICE   VALE. 

one  who  did  love  him,  and  have  been  happy  with  her 
now." 

"  You  are  sick,  dear  mother,  and  your  fancies  are 
morbid :  put  such  thoughts  away  from  you,  and  all  will 
yet  be  well."  Mrs.  Vale  shook  her  head,  but  made  no 
further  reply ;  and  from  this  time  forth  she  sank  rapidly. 

About  a  week  after  this,  Alice  said  to  her  husband 
one  night,  after  her  mother  had  retired,  "  I  think,  John, 
that  we  had  better  call  the  doctor  for  mother,  even  if 
she  is  not  willing ;  for  she  is  failing  so  fast  I  fear  that 
we  shall  not  keep  her  long  unless  something  can  be 
done  for  her." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  wife  :  I  should  have  called  one 
before  now  had  the  matter  rested  with  me." 

"  Then  stop  on  your  way  to  the  store  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  request  Dr.  Wilson  to  step  in  some  time  in  the 
course  of  the  day,"  said  Alice,  in  conclusion  ;  and  then 
other  subjects  of  conversation  were  introduced. 

Upon  retiring  for  the  night,  she  went,  as  usual,  to  her 
mother's  room  to  see  if  any  thing  was  iieeded.  Upon 
speaking  to  her,  however,  she  received  no  reply.  As 
she  lay  with  her  face  turned  away,  Alice  thought  that 
she  was  asleep ;  and,  not  liking  to  wake  her,  left  without 
further  effort  at  getting  a  response.  In  the  morning  she 
went  again  to  her  room ;  but,  upon  opening  the  door,  she 
found  that  her  mother  was  lying  exactly  as  she  was  the 
evening  previous.  With  trembling  steps,  and  a  terrible 
fear  at  her  heart,  she  went  to  the  bedside  to  find  but  the 
cold  form  from  which  the  spirit  had  fled. 

She  had  evidently  been  dead  for  several  hours :  her 
cheek  i -ester  upon  her  right  hand,  and  a  pleasant  smile 
showed  thaf  there  had  been  no  struggle. 


A  PIFT  IN  THE  CLOUD.  93 

I  will  not  attempt  to  portray  the  grief  of  Alice  at  the 
loss  of  this,  her  only  remaining  parent. 

"  O  John  !  I  have  no  one  but  you  now,"  said  she, 
as  she  lay  sobbing  upon  his  breast ;  and  he  only  kissed 
her  in  reply,  for  his  heart  was  too  full  for  speech. 

They  took  the  body  back  to  Ellsville,  and  laid  it  be- 
side that  of  her  husband.  As  they  were  passing  Brown's 
store,  Holten,  the  clerk  before  spoken  of,  was  standing 
in  the  door,  and  remarked  to  some  one  within,  and  loud 
enough  for  Alice  to  hear,  — 

"  Miss  Alice  has  had  her  own  way,  and  has  killed 
both  of  her  parents  by  the  means."  It  was  too  much 
for  the  stricken  one  ;  and  she  fainted.  Shepherd  made 
no  remark  at  the  time,  but  called  upon  Holten  before 
leaving  the  place,  and,  referring  to  the  circumstance, 
said,  — 

"  You  will  see  the  day,  sir,  that  you  will  be  sorry  for 
that  remark." 

Holten  smiled  maliciously,  and  asked,  "  When  you 
are  inside  the  walls  of  a  prison  ?  " 

"  You  are  too  contemptible  for  chastisement,"  said 
Shepherd,  as  he  walked  away. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Holten  ?  "  asked  the 
clerk  who  had  taken  Shepherd's  place  in  the  store. 

"  That  is  my  business,"  was  the  curt  reply  ;  and, 
taking  his  hat,  he  left  the  store.  Brown,  the  merchant, 
came  in  soon  after,  when  Taylor,  the  clerk  before 
spoken  of,  asked, — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  Holten,  that  he  is  so  spite- 
ful toward  Shepherd  and  his  wife  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  unless  he  wanted  Alice  himself,''  re- 
plied Brown. 


94  ALICE   VALE. 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Taylor  smiling,  and  made  no 
further  remark :  bul  he  did  not  forget ;  for,  taken  in  con- 
nection with  some  events  that  had  already  transpired, 
but  which  we  have  not  as  yet  related,  he  feared  that 
there  was  trouble  ahead. 


MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  95 


CHAPTER  VIH, 

MIDNIGHT     BLACKNESS. 
"  The  night  cometh,  and  also  the  morning." 

HEY  called  you  crazy,  Peter,  because  you 
saw  too  much,  because  your  spiritual  eyes 
were  open ;  but  did  the  cloud  that  you 
beheld   in    the    distant   horizon    of   your 
playmate  and  companion  fling  no  shadow 
upon  your  spirit  ?      Or  was  it  the  shadow 
that  was  cast  upon  you  from  before  birth  which  gave 
you  clearer  vision  to  penetrate  the  future  ? 

Be  that  as  it  may,  the  cloud  grows  blacker,  and  the 
midnight  deepens  over  the  pathway  of  our  Alice.  Kind 
spirits  of  love,  are  you  watching  ?  will  you  sustain  her 
when  the  surges  of  the  tempest  would  flood  her  soul  ? 

Cheerful,  yet  saddened,  the  bereaved  ones  went  back 
to  their  lonely  home,  and  again  adjusted  themselves  to 
the  tasks  of  duty  and  of  love.  Each  was  all  to  the  other 
now,  for  Mr.  Shepherd  had  been  an  orphan  from  boy- 
hood ;  and  each  strove,  with  love's  purest  intent,  to  fill 
the  needs  of  the  other's  being. 

A  lonely  day  had  given  place  to  the  softened  glory 
of  the  brightest  of  nights ;  the  duties  of  the  evening 
were  done  ;  John  Shepherd  and  his  wife  were  sitting 
together,  talking  of  the  past  and  planning  for  the  future, 
when  a  rap  at  the  door  indicated  that  others  were 
near. 


96  ALICE   VALE. 

"I  wonder  who  it  can  be  at  this  hour,"  said  Alice, 
while  John  went  forward  to  ascertain.  Upon  looking 
out,  he  saw  three  men,  strangers,  standing  together  upon 
the  step. 

"  Whr  t  is  wanted,  gentlemen  ?  "  he  asked. 

44  Are  you  John  Shepherd,  formerly  clerk  in  E.  P. 
Brown's  store  in  Ellsville  ?  "  said  one  of  the  party  ;  and, 
as  he  did  so,  he  made  a  step  forward,  when  Shepherd 
saw  that  he  wore  an  officer's  insignia. 

44 1  am,"  was  the  reply. 

44  Then,  sir,  you  are  my  prisoner,"  said  he,  placing 
one  hand  upon  John's  shoulder. 

44  Prisoner !  " 

4'  Yes  :  will  you  go  with  me  peaceably  ?  " 

44  Certainly,  but  upon  what  charge  am  I  arrested  ?  " 

44  Upon  the  charge  of  embezzling  from  your  employer, 
in  person  while  there,  and  since  then  through  the  aid 
of,  and  in  conjunction  with,  Robert  Taylor,  who  took 
-your  place  when  you  left,  and  who  is  now  under 
arrest." 

"  When,  and  by  whom,  was  this  charge  first  con- 
cocted ?  "  asked  Shepherd  indignantly. 

44  Young  man,  I  can  not  stop  to  argue  with  you,"  said 
the  sheriff:  "  it  is  my  business  to  take  you  back  to  Ells- 
ville. You  will  there  be  tried,  and,  if  innocent,  will 
most  likely  be  able  to  make  it  appear.  Will  you  go 
with  us  quietly,  or  shall  we  have  to  use  force  ?  " 

44 1  have  told  you  already  what  I  would  do,  and  I  see 
no  cause  for  insult,  sir ;  but  will  you  walk  in,  gentle- 
men, while  I  get  my  hat  and  overcoat,  and  speak  a  word 
with  my  wife.  O  God !  how  can  I  tell  her  ?  "  he  groaned 
inwardly. 


^MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  97 

But  of  this  last  there  was  no  need,  for  Alice  had 
heard  every  word. 

With  firm  tones,  though  blanched  cheek,  she  now 
stepped  forward. 

"  You  will  take  me  too  ?  "  she  said. 

"  We  can  not,  madam :  we  have  orders  for  only  your 
husband." 

'*  Orders  that  you  shall  permit  no  one  to  accompany 
him  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Not  exactly  that,"  was  the  reply ;  "  but  a  press  of 
other  business  makes  it  necessary  that  we  should  ride 
all  night.  And,  besides,  we  have  no  comfortable  convey- 
ance for  a  lady,  and  no  room  in  it  if  we  had :  there  are 
scats  but  for  four." 

"  Enough,"  she  replied.  "  I  see  that  you  do  not  want 
me  along ;  but  my  place  is  beside  my  husband,  and  I 
shall  go."  And,  whispering  a  word  in  John's  ear,  she 
threw  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  and  started  for  the 
street. 

"  Don't  go  to-night,  Alice,"  he  said  :  "  wait  till  morn- 
ing, and  I  will  not  object." 

"  I  shall  go  to-night,"  was  her  firm  response.  "  Do 
you  think  I  could  stay  here  quietly  till  morning,  and 
live  ?  "  And,  hurrying  quickly  forward,  she  soon  reached 
the  only  livery-stable  in  town.  The  keeper  was  just 
about  to  close  it  for  the  night,  when  she  accosted  him 
with,  — 

"  Mr.  Jennings,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  furnish  me  a 
horse,  buggy,  and  driver,  to  go  to  Ellsville  with,  as  soon 
as  possible ;  and  here  is  my  watch  and  chain  to  secure 
you  for  the  payment  till  I  return." 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Shepherd  ? 


98  ALICE   VALE. 

is  anybody  dead  or  dying  ?  "  asked  the  man  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"  No :  I  ut  be  quick ;  for  there  will  be  if  they  take 
away  my  husband,  and  I  can't  go  too." 

Jennings  looked  into  her  face,  and,  seeing  the  terrible 
.earnestness  depicted  there,  called  to  the  boy  to  harness 
as  quick  as  possible,  while  he  questioned  further, — 

"  What  are  they  taking  your  husband  away  for  ?  " 

"  Upon  the  charge  of  robbing  his  former  employer ; 
but,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  detain  me  a  moment  I 
Send  the  horse  around  to  our  gate  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  I  will  go  and  get  ready."  And  away  she  went  with 
the  speed  of  a  deer,  reaching  her  own  home  just  as  the 
sheriff  and  his  posse  were  about  to  start. 

"  I.  shall  be  right  after  you,  John,"  said  she,  kissing 
her  hand  to  him.  "  Keep  up  good  courage  ;  for,  if  there 
is  such  a  thing  in  the  world  as  justice,  you  will  soon  be 
free." 

They  had  not  gone  more  than  two  miles  when  Alice 
overtook  them ;  and,  after  that,  she  kept  close  behind 
them  the  most  of  the  way.  Notwithstanding  their 
haste,  with  bad  roads,  and  stopping  a  few  hours  for  rest, 
they  did  not  reach  Ellsville  till  toward  evening  of  the 
next  day.  When  they  were  within  six  or  seven  miles 
of  town,  Alice  drove  ahead,  and  had  the  Winchesters 
apprised  of  what  was  going  on.  As  she  passed  the  store, 
Holten  saw  her,  and  seemed  much  surprised ;  but,  as 
her  clear,  full  eye  met  his,  his  countenance  fell,  and, 
with  a  muttered  curse,  he  turned  away. 

It  will  be  necessary,  here,  to  go  back  a  little,  and  ex- 
plain some  of  the  causes  that  led  to  this  arrest ;  and,  to 
do  ?o  fully,  we  must  give  something  of  Holten's  history 
ere  he  came  to  Ellsville. 


.MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  99 

He  was  the  illegitimate  child  of  a  gentlei  ian  of  leis- 
ure, who  lived  by  his  wits,  and  inherited  both  the  ex- 
pertness  and  duplicity  of  his  father.  He  had  lived  in 
the  city  till  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  in  that 
time  had  acquired  just  that  kind  of  education  that  Chris- 
tian cities  furnish  for  their  outcast  sons.  He  had  often 
been  caught  in  petty  scrapes,  and  as  often  suspected  of 
more  grave  offenses,  but  always  managed  to  escape  any 
serious  punishment.  But  at  length,  becoming  more 
bold  in  crime,  he  essayed  his  hand  at  forgery,  and  came 
so  near  being  caught,  that  he  resolved  to  quit  for  ever 
the  scene  of  his  old  haunts,  seek  some  retired  place,  and 
see  what  fortune  would  do  for  him  in  the  way  of  his 
earning  an  honest  living. 

In  pursuance  of  this  resolution,  he  had  come  to  the 
little  village  of  Ellsville,  some  three  years  previous,  and 
taken  up  his  abode  there.  He  had  enough  of  his  ill- 
gotten  gains  left  to  support  him,  till,  by  his  suavity  of 
address,  pleasing  manners,  and  a  well-concocted  account 
of  his  previous  life,  he  secured  the  position  of  clerk  in 
the  store  of  E.  P.  Brown,  who  was  the  largest  merchant 
and  one  of  the  most  influential  men  in  all  that  region  of 
country. 

This  situation  secured,  and  all  was  clear  before  him  ; 
at  least,  so  he  thought :  but  there  is  no  condition  in  life 
for  either  man  or  woman,  in  which  they  will  not  bo 
tried ;  and  that  is  not  virtue  which  does  not  stand  the 
test.  All  went  well  with  him  till  he  saw  Alice  Vale ; 
but,  from  that  moment,  his  bosom  was  torn  with  a  feel- 
ing to  which  he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  To  be- 
come acquainted  with  and  win  her  for  his  wife  was  now 
the  sole  thought  that  occupied  his  mind  ;  but,  when  he 


100  ALICE   VALE. 

found  that  his  fellow-clerk  was  the  favored  one,  hatred 
took  possession  of  his  soul,  and  from  that  hour  he  re- 
solved to  accomplish  the  ruin  of  John  Shepherd. 

He  had  learned  the  relation  in  which  John  and  Alice 
stood  to  each  other  before  he  had  made  his  own  feelings 
known ;  and  he  understood  human  nature  too  well  to 
think  for  a  moment  that  one  like  Alice  could  be  won 
from  her  allegiance.  There  was  no  hope  for  him  only 
in  vengeance  upon  the  innocent  rival  who  had  won  her 
heart  before  he  had  had  the  opportunity  of  doing  so. 

The  pure  instincts  of  Alice's  soul  would  have  pre- 
vented his  success,  even  had  her  affections  been  unen- 
gaged ;  but  this  he  could  not  know.  He  had  not,  as 
yet,  learned  that  there  were  those  from  whom  he  could 
not  be  hidden,  let  him  cover  himself  ever  so  deeply. 

Resolved  on  the  wrong,  there  was  not  long  wanting 
the  occasion.  The  incident  of  the  note  'suggested  the 
first  step  in  his  afterward  matured  plan  for  success; 
and,  from  that  time  forth  until  he  left  the  store,  William 
Holten  hovered,  like  the  shadow  of  the  imp  of  dark- 
ness, over  every  movement  of  John  Shepherd's. 

From  the  getting  possession  of  that  first  note,  and 
finding  those  few  legible  words  thereon,  he  had  com- 
menced a  system  of  embezzlement  from  the  money- 
drawer,  resolving,  when  the  right  moment  arrived,  to 
fasten  suspicion  upon  Shepherd,  and  use  this,  in  connec- 
tion with  whatever  else  he  could  gather,  toward  insur- 
ing his  conviction. 

The  sums  taken  were  at  first  small  and  infrequent, 
but  so  planned,  that,  suspicion  once  aroused,  they  could 
be  readily  disco  ^ered.  These  sums  were  gradually  in- 
creased, both  in  size  and  frequency  as  though  the  per- 


MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  101 

petrator,  in  the  absence  of  discovery,  was  grc  vang  bolder 
in  crime. 

When  John  and  Alice  were  married,  and  left  the 
place,  this  at  first  disconcerted,  but  upon  further  thought 
really  facilitated,  Holten's  plans :  for  he  had  only  to  make 
it  appear  that  Taylor  was  an  associate,  and  that  it  was 
he  who  had  written  the  notes  that  had  enjoined  care  for 
fear  of  discovery ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  he  took  to 
copying  Taylor's  handwriting. 

He  was  naturally  good  at  imitating ;  and  it  was  not 
long  till  he  had  succeeded  so  perfectly,  that  Taylor  him- 
self would  not  have  suspected  the  difference,  had  some- 
thing that  he  had  really  written  been  presented  to  him 
after  it  had  been  copied  by  Holten.  This  done,  he  next 
took  those  remnants  of  notes,  and,  by  careful  efforts, 
succeeded,  at  length,  in  substituting  others  in  their  place, 
so  chewed  and  burned  that  the  difference  could  not  have 
been  told  between  them  and  the  originals,  only  that  the 
legible  words  in  the  copies  were  in  the  handwriting  of 
Taylor,  instead  of  the  feminine  one  belonging  to  Alice. 

Beside,  as  is  always  the  case,  there  were  many  little 
incidents,  nothing  in  themselves,  but  weights  when  put 
into  the  balance  of  suspicion.  And,  added  to  all,  was 
a  note  of  his  own  preparing,  kept  to  be  left,  as  if  by 
accident,  where  Brown  would  be  certain  to  find  it  when 
the  right  time  came  for  putting  his  plans  into  execution. 
Upon  these  forged  links,  so  connected  with  the  accidental 
ones  as  to  present  one  unbroken  chain,  did  Holten  de- 
pend for  the  success  of  his  Satanic  scheme. 

The  chain  was  complete,  all  but  the  hook ;  and  the 
visit  of  the  Shepherds  to  Ellsville  at  the  time  of  the 
funeral  of  Alice's  mother  furnished  the  occasion  fw 


102  ALICE   VALE. 

forging  that.  Holten,  as  soon  as  he  knew  of  their  pres- 
ence in  town,  took  an  unusually  large  sum  from  the 
drawer,  and  was  the  first  to  miss  and  draw  Brown's 
attention  to  it.  Brown  had  been  in  once  that  morning, 
and  gone  out  again ;  and,  upon  his  return,  Holten 
asked,  — 

"  Mr.  Brown,  have  you  taken  a  sum  of  money  from 
the  drawer  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  have  not :  why  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  there  is  some  missing ;  but  perhaps 
Taylor  knows  where  it  is." 

"Where  is  Taylor?" 

"  He  went  out  a  few  minutes  ago  with  Shepherd." 

"  Yes :  I  heard  that  Shepherd  was  in  town,"  said 
Brown,  and  then  added,  "  I  presume  Taylor  has  paid 
out  the  money,  for  there  were  some  small  bills  due 
to-day." 

"  Perhaps  he  has,"  was  Holten's  reply.  "  He  could 
have  done  so  without  my  noticing  it,  for  I  have  been 
very  busy." 

Taylor  returned  in  about  half  an  hour;  and,  soon 
after,  the  bills  that  Brown  had  spoken  of  were  presented 
for  payment. 

"  How  is  this,  Taylor  ?  "  said  his  employer :  "  I  sup- 
posed that  these  were  paid?  " 

"What  made  you  think  they  were  paid?  "asked 
Taylor. 

"  Why,  Holten  said  that  there  was  some  money  gone 
from  the  drawer ;  and  we  concluded  that  you  had  paid 
it  out." 

"  No :  I  have  paid  out  no  money.  I  have  had  no 
occasion  to  pay  out  any,"  said  Taylor,  looking  a  little 
surprised. 


MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  103 

"  I  must  look  into  this  :  how  much  is  the  re  missing, 
Hoi  ten  ?  "  said  the  merchant  with  a  look  of  anxiety 
upon  his  face. 

"  Fifty  dollars.  Smith  paid  it  in  last  night  just 
before  we  closed." 

"  Are  you  certain  that  you  did  not  put  it  in  some 
other  place  ?  " 

"  I  am.  Taylor  saw  him  pay  it  to  me,  and  saw  where 
I  put  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Taylor:  "I  remember  it  the  more  par- 
ticularly, as  he  paid  me  fifty  at  the  same  time ;  and  I 
noticed  that  the  bills  were  of  the  same  denomination, 
and  upon  the  same  bank,  as  those  paid  to  Holten." 

"  Was  he  owing  you?  "  asked  Brown. 

"  Yes,  for  money  borrowed  three  months  ago." 

"  I  fear  we  have  a  thief  amongst  us,"  said  the  mer- 
chant :  "  did  you  take  the  numbers  of  the  bills, 
Holten  ?  " 

"  I  did :  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  so  when 
any  bill  as  high  as  five  dollars  was  paid  in,  ever  since 
there  has  been  so  much  counterfeit  money  afloat." 

u  That  is  well :  perhaps  we  may  be  able  to  trace 
them,  and  catch  the  rogue." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Taylor  ;  "  for,  if  there  is  any  thing 
that  I  despise,  it  is  a  thief." 

"  And  so  do  I,  "  said  Holten,  "  Still,  when  I  think  of 
the  suffering  thus  caused  to  friends  and  relatives,  I 
almost  wish  that  the  guilty  could  escape  for  the  sake  of 
the  innocent." 

"  A  sentiment  very  creditable  to  the  heart ;  but  it  will 
not  do  for  the  head  in  the  present  state  of  society,"  said 
Brown,  as  he  took  the  number,  date,  and  denomination 


104  ALICE   VALE. 

of  the  bills  in  question,  from^  Holten's  memorandum, 
preparatory  to  going  out  for  the  purpose  of  instituting 
measures  that  should  lead  to  the  detention  of  the  guilty 
party. 

Holten  had  noticed  the  evening  previous,  that,  with 
the  exception  of  dates  and  numbers,  the  bills  paid  to 
Taylor  were  the  same  as  those  paid  to  him  for  Brown, 
and  had  said  to  himself,  "  Here  is  just  the  trap  I  need, 
if  I  can  only  set  and  spring  it  aright."  It  was  his  in- 
tention to  get  hold  of  Taylor's  pocket-book,  and,  taking 
his,  substitute  the  ones  of  which  he  had  taken  the  num- 
bers and  dates  ;  but,  as  yet,  he  had  had  no  opportunity. 

He  had  accomplished  enough  that  morning,  however, 
to  make  him  think  it  safe  to  speak  to  his  employer ;  for 
when  Shepherd  came  in,  and  asked  Taylor  to  give  him 
two  fives  and  a  ten  for  a  twenty,  after  the  change  had 
been  made,  he  had  said,  "  Let  me  look  at  those  bills, 
Shepherd." 

Taking  them  in  his  hand,  and  examining  them  a 
moment,  he  looked  at  Taylor  with,  "  Those  that  Smith 
paid  you  last  night  ?  " 

"  The  same,"  said  Taylor. 

They  are  upon  the  same  bank  that  those  were  he 
paid  me,"  remarked  Holten  carelessly,  handing  back, 
as  the  other  supposed,  the  same  money.  But,  in  the 
mean  time,  it  had  been  changed  ;  and,  all  unconscious 
of  wrong,  Shepherd  carried  away  three  of  the  missing 
bills.  The  next  night,  Holten  succeeded  in  getting  hold 
of  Taylor's  •  pocket-book,  and  the  balance  of  the  ex- 
change was  made. 

Shepherd  had  paid  out  a  portion  of  his  —  a  ten  and 
a  five  —  to  Winchester.  Indeed,  it  vas  for  this  very 


MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  105 

purpose  that  he  had  had  his  larger  bill  broken ;  and, 
the  morning  after  he  left,  Taylor  paid  out  ten  dollars  of 
that  which  was  in  his  possession  to  a  farmer  from  the 
country.  He  took  it  home,  and  paid  it  to  a  neighbor ; 
and  that  neighbor  came  back  the  very  next  day,  and  paid 
it  into  Brown's  own  hands.  This,  being  traced  up,  led 
to  the  arrest  of  Taylor ;  and  Winchester,  the  morning 
after  paying  out  that  which  he  had  received  from  Shep- 
herd into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  parties  that  Brown  had 
set  upon  the  watch,  caused  his  suspicion  to  be  turned 
in  that  direction ;  but  Holten  said,  — 

"  I  can't  believe  it  possible,  Mr.  Brown,  that  Shep- 
herd is  guilty.  I  saw  Taylor  pay  him  some  money,  and 
I  think  this  must  be  a  portion  of  it :  "  at  the  same  time, 
however,  he  managed  that  the  letter  he  had  so  artfully 
concocted  should  fall  into  Brown's  hands. 

"  Somebody  has  lost  a  letter,"  said  the  merchant, 
picking  it  up  from  the  end  of  the  step  at  the  front  door 
of  the  store,  where  it  lay  with  pieces  <5f  loose  paper,  and 
all  seemed  to  have  fallen  there  as  if  by  accident. 

Holten  looked  up.  "Is  it  sealed?  "  he  asked,  at  the 
same  time  putting  his  hand  to  his  own  pocket,  as  though 
he  feared  that  it  was  his. 

Brown  laughed  aloud.  "  Been  writing  a  love-letter," 
said  he,  "  and  was  afraid  you  had  lost  it  ?  "  And  then, 
looking  at  the  letter  in  his  hand,  he  continued,  "  Yes : 
it  is  sealed,  and  directed  to  John  Shepherd ;  but  it  has 
not  been  mailed,  and,  as  I  live,  it  is  Taylor's  handwriting. 
I  must  see  what  is  in  this  !  " 

The  result  of  the  reading  of  that  letter  was  the 
arrest  of  Shepherd.  That  evening  Holte?  said,  "  Had 
we  not  better  look  over  the  books,  Mr.  Brown :  per- 


106  ALICE   VALE. 

liaps    tin's    thing   has   been   going   on  longer  than  we 
think." 

The  merchant  readily  consented ;  and  Holten,  giving 
him  the  clew  so  cunningly  that  he  never  suspected  but 
that  he  had  discovered  it  himself,  he  traced  it  back  to 
the  very  first  petty  sum  taken.  The  next  morning 
Holten  made  up  a  bundle  of  his  old  clothes,  and  desired 
the  errand-boy  of  the  store  to  take  them  to  a  poor 
woman  up  town,  handing  him  a  dime  to  pay  him  for 
his  trouble 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  he,  as  the  boy  was  about  to 
start :  "  I  believe  I  have  not  looked  in  all  of  the  pockets  ; 
and,  taking  them  from  the  boy's  hand,  he  looked  them 
over  one  after  another.  "  There  is  nothing,"  said  he; 
"but  I  always  like  to  be  certain,"  turning  towards  Brown 
as  he  spoke,  as  though  half  excusing  himself  for  being  so 
particular.  He  was  about  to  relinquish  the  bundle  into 
the.  hands  of  the  boy  again,  when  he  drew  it  back  with, 
"  Hold  —  here  is*a  pocket  I  had  not  seen  ;  and,  thrusting 
his  hand  into  it,  he  drew  forth  the  copied  remnants  of 
the  notes  that  Alice  had  sent  to  John  more  than  a  year 
before.  Glancing  at  them,  he  laughed,  and  said,  "  The 
fragments  of  those  notes,  —  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
them." 

"  What  notes  ?  "  asked  Brown. 

.  "  Don't  you  recollect  the  time  we  had  with  Shepherd, 
when  he  coughed,  and  threw  that  piece  of  paper  from 
his  mouth  ;  and  I  picked  it  up,  telling  him  that  he  was 
in  a  great  strait  if  he  could  not  get  enough  of  his  love- 
letters  without  eating  them ;  and  the  other  one  is  the 
remnant  of  one  that  I  saw  him  net  on  fire,  and  throw 
down  on  the  stove-hearth,  a  short  time  afterward." 


MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  107 

"  How  happened  you  to  keep  them  ?  " 

"  To  tease  him  about ;  but  his  speedy  marriage  and 
old  Vale's  tragic  death  put  an  end  to  that." 

"  Let  me  see  them,  will  you?" 

Holten  handed  them  to  the  merchant,  with  a  counte- 
nance as  innocent  as  that  of  an  angel.  Surely,  if  ever 
mortal  stole  "the  livery  of  the  court  of  heaven  to  serve 
the  Devil  in,"  he  had. 

Brown  looked  at  the  scarred  and  mutilated  remains  a 
moment,  and  then,  turning  to  Holten,  said,  "  More  evi- 
dence." 

"  More  evidence  !  how,  sir?"  said  Holten,  in  a  well- 
feigned  tone  of  surprise. 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  wrote  this  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  ;  but  I  always  supposed  it 
was  Alice,  and  that  was  why  I  wished  to  tease  him." 

"  But  why  should  she  be  so  careful  about  discov- 
ery?" 

"  On  account  of  her  father's  opposition.  I  tell  you, 
Mr.  Brown,  Mr.  Vale  would  have  stopped  at  nothing 
that  would  have  separated  them  ;  and  Alice  knew  it," 
said  Holton  earnestly. 

"  But  Alice  never  wrote  this.  Look  at  the  hand- 
writing, and  see  if  you  don't  know  whose  it  is." 

Holton  took  the  papers  from  Brown's  hand,  and 
looked  at  them  carefully.  "  It  is  Taylor's,"  said  he  ; 
"  but  I  had  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  I  wonder  that  you  did  not  recognize  it  before." 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Brown,  that  I  was  not  familiar  with 
Taylor's  handwriting  at  the  time  ;  and  I  hardly  looked 
at  them  now  before  I  gave  them  to  you,  sir.' 

"  True,"  said  Brown.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  Taylor  did 


108  ALICE   VALE. 

not  come  here  till  after  Shepherd  left;  but  it  really 
seems  providential  that  these  fragments  should  turn  up 
just  at  this  time." 

"  Providential!  "  yes,  in  the  same  sense  as  that  of  the 
ancient  Jew,  when  he  said,  "  Is  there  evil  in  the  city, 
and  the  Lord  hath  not  done  it?  "  Surely,  it  needs  the 
light  of  eternity  to  illuminate  the  dark  places  of  thi-> 
life. 

And  thus  the  evidence  accumulated.  A  portion  of 
the  missing  money  was  traced  to  those  two  men,  and  the 
remainder  was  found  upon  their  persons.  Taylor  and 
Shepherd  were  fast  friends  ;  had  long  been  known  to  be 
such ;  and,  when  Shepherd  left  Brown's  employ,  it 
was  through  his  influence  that  Taylor  had  secured  the 
place. 

The  letter  found  had  the  appearance  of  being  written 
with  the  intention  of  sending  it  to  Batesville  by  mail : 
but  it  had  not  been  mailed;  and  the  supposition  was, 
that,  upon  Shepherd's  coming  to  the  place,  Taylor  had 
handed  it  to  him,  and  he  had  dropped  it.  This  letter 
was  so  written,  that,  in  connection  with  other  events, 
it  revealed  what  it  seemed  intended  to  conceal  from  all 
but  the  parties  themselves.  A  stranger  could  have  un- 
derstood nothing  from  its  contents. 

And,  lastly,  these  fragments.  It  seemed  to  the  prison- 
ers at  the  bar,  as  they  listened  to  all  this  testimony,  that 
the  prince  of  darkness  himself  could  not  have  concocted 
a  more  thoroughly  connected  chain.  They  felt  morally 
sure  that  Holten  was  at  the  bottom  of  it ;  and  yet  there 
was  not  a  single  circumstance  by  means  of  which  they 
could  make  others  think  so. 

The  evidence  was  so  strong,  that  no  one  but  Win- 


MIDNIGHT  BLACKNESS.  109 

Chester  and  his  wife  doubted  their  guilt ;  and  even  they 
hardly  knew  what  to  believe.  Of  course  they  were 
convicted,  and  sentenced  to  prison.  Words  would  be 
useless  in  attempting  to  portray  the  agony  of  Alice  ; 
still,  she  restrained  every  expression  of  it,  further  than 
what  her  compressed  and  bloodless  lips  would  betray  • 
for,  with  woman's  instinct,  she  not  only  felt  that  this  was 
Holten's  work,  but  she  felt  the  why  ;  and  she  determined 
that  he  should  not  have  the  triumph  of  seeing  any  mani- 
festation of  weakness  on  her  part. 

She  kept  up  bravely  also  in  the  presence  of  her 
husband.  "  He  has  enough  to  bear,"  she  said  to  Addie 
Winchester,  "  without  my  adding  to  his  load."  "  There 
will  be  a  righting  to  this  wrong  sometime,  my  husband," 
were  almost  her,  last  words,  ere  he  started  on  his  way 
to  Albany ;  "  and  we  shall  not  be  wholly  separated,  for 
I  shall  follow  you  soon,  shall  stay  in  the  vicinity,  and  see 
you  as  often  as  possible. ' 

"  God  bless  you,  my  own  sweet  wife  !  it  is  my  greatest 
comfort  that  you  believe  me  innocent,"  said  he,  speak- 
ing as  calmly  as  his  emotion  would  permit. 

"  Not  so  great  as  the  consciousness  that  you  are  so," 
she  replied  smiling. 

"  Your  approval  would  not  only  be  worthless,  but 
torture,  without  that :  your  innocent  confidence  would 
be  a  greater  reproach  to  me  than  even  the  crime  itself." 
And  thus  each  sustained  the  other,  with  loving  words 
and  noble  sentiments,  till  the  hour  of  parting  came. 
Alice  then  returned  to  her  home,  boxed  up  her  bedding 
and  such  other  things  as  she  could  keep  best,  sent  them 
to  Ellsville,  to  Winchester's,  for  safe-keeping,  disposed 
of  whatever  else  there  was  to  the  best  advantage  she 


110  ALICE   VALE. 

could,  and  putting  the  money  on  interest,  all  but  a  few 
dollars  for  present  need,  she  started  for  the  city  whose 
limits  held  the  gloomy  prison-walls  that  had  shut  her 
husband  from  the  outer  world ;  and  here>  for  the  present, 
we  will  leave  her. 


GOD'S  ELECT.  11 1 


CHAPTER    IX. 

GOD'S    ELECT. 

|N  the  outskirts  of  the  city  o  Albany  lived 
the  Rev.  Silas  Dare.  His  .family  consist- 
ed of  his  wife,  two  grown  daughters,  a  son, 
and  three  smaller  children,  —  Susie,  Jen- 
nie, and  bright-eyed,  mischievous  little 
Eddie,  aged  respectively  twelve,  nine,  and  seven  years. 
Their  -home  was  a  neat  white  cottage,  very  tastefully 
adorned,  and  standing  in  the  center  of  a  plot  of  ground 
laid  off  in  walks,  and  rilled  with  flowers  and  choice  shrub- 
bery, the  whole  of  which  was  so  artistically  planned,  and 
so  well  kept,  that  many  a  stranger,  passing  by  other 
places  of  greater  pretensions,  would  stop  to  admire 
this. 

Mr.  Dare,  when  he  believed  that  at  least  half  of  the 
poor  creatures  who  were  confined  within  prison  walls 
would  finally  become  heirs  of  eternal  torture,  —  objects 
of  God's  vengeance  for  ever;  when  .he  believed  and 
taught  the  doctrines  of  election,  reprobation,  &c.,  —  had 
been  chosen,  year  by  year,  to  act  as  chaplain  for  the 
prison  ;  but  now,  when  his  ideas  had  become  so  enlarged 
as  to  believe  that  God  would  eventually  wipe  the  tears 
from  off  all  faces,  the  place  was  shut  against  him. 

His  organ  of  what  phrenologists  call  human  nature 
was  large.  He  studied  men  and  things  closely  ;  and 


112  ALICE  VALE. 

his  long  experience  with  those  who  are  held  in  bonds  as 
criminals  had  convinced  him  that  human  justice  is  so 
short-sighted,  so  mole-eyed,  that  the  innocent  are  about 
as  often  condemned  as  the  guilty,  and  that,  when  other- 
wise, it  was  more  often  from  weakness,  from  the  force  of 
circumstances,  than  from  real  wickedness,  that  the  acts 
were  committed  which  incarcerated  their  unhappy  vic- 
tims. 

Largely  sympathetic,  he  came  at  last  to  pity  more 
than  to  blame  even  the  worst  offenders.  The  more 
closely  he  observed,  the  less  sympathy  he  had  with  those 
lines  of  Young,  — 

"  From  all  beings  but  himself 
God  hides  that  worst  of  sights, 
A  naked  human  heart,"  — 

till  finally  thus,  step  by  step,  he  was  led  out  of  the  great 
darkness  that  had  hung  so  like  an  incubus  upon  his 
soul.  He  saw  the  way  clear  for  all ;  and  not  only  that, 
but  that  all  would  at  last  find  it.  And,  without  a  thought 
of  worldly  policy,  he  boldly  proclaimed  that  which  gave 
him  so  much  joy ;  for,  in  the  earnestness  and  honesty 
of  his  own  heart,  he  did  not  once  imagine  but  that  oth- 
ers would  rejoice  with  him. 

Alas !  he  had  not  measured  the  strength  of  super- 
stition and  prejudice :  he  little  anticipated  the  storm 
that  was  thus  brought  upon  his  devoted  head.  What 
had  he  done,  that  he  should  be  disfellowshiped,  cast 
out  of  the  band  of  brotherhood  where  he  had  so  long 

O 

been  a  faithful  worker  ?  What  crime  had  he  commit- 
ted? What  moral  law  had  he  broken  ?  None,  —  not 
one  ;  but  he  had  had  the  audacity  to  think  for  hims  ^lf, 


GOD'S  ELECT.  113 

till  so  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  that  he  could  say 
from  the  heart,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  :  go  and 
sin  no  more  ;  "  and  the  angel  of  progress,  seeing  this  evi- 
dence of  fitness,  had  touched  his  eyes  with  magnetic 
fingers,  causing  him  to  see  truths  that  they  could  not 
see  :  therefore  they  thrust  him  out.  And  this  was  well. 
It  is  a  law  of  nature,  that  those  who  are  in  advance 
should  move  on  and  prepare  the  way  for  the  coming 
multitude.  But  to  Silas  Dare  it  would  have  been  quite 
a  serious  affair,  so  far  as  a  visible  means  of  support  was 
concerned,  had  not  a  legacy  of  several  thousands  fallen 
to  his  wife  about  this  time. 

The  sun  had  set  on  a  beautiful  October  day,  and  the 
stars  were  shining  as  only  stars  can  at  that  season  of  the 
year,  when  a  lady,  simply  but  neatly  attired,  rang  the 
bell  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Dare's  pleasant  cottage.  It  was 
opened  by  the  tidy  servant. 

"  Does  the  Rev.  Silas  Dare  reside  here  ?  " 

"  He  does." 

"  Will  you  please  say  that  a  lady  would  like  to  see 
him." 

"  Any  name  ?  "  asked  the  thoughtful  servant. 

"  None :  I  am  a  stranger,"  was  the  reply ;  "  but 
stop :  you  may  hand  him  this  if  you  please,"  said  she, 
giving  the  servant  what  proved  to  be  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction. 

"•  Very  well :  take  a  seat  in  the  parlor,  and  I  will  in- 
form Mr.  Dare." 

"  The  lady  walked  into  the  room  indicated,  took  a 
seat,  and  waited,  —  waited  like  one  fully  absorbed  in 
some  painful  subject ;  for,  though  several  choice  pail  t- 
ings  adorned  the  walls,  and  evidences  of  taste  were  upon 


114  ALICE   VALE. 

all  sides,  she  never  once  glanced  at  any  of  them,  but  sat 
with  her  head  resting  upon  one  hand,  and  the  other 
pressed  tightly  ( ver  her  heart.  Presently,  however,  the 
sound  of  footsteps  aroused  her  to  a  sense  of  her  present 
condition.  The  door  opened ;  and  with  quiet  grace  she 
arose  to  her  feet,  as  a  benevolent-looking  gentleman  ad- 
vanced to  meet  her. 

"  Mrs.  Shepherd,  I  am  happy  to  meet  you,"  said  he, 
frankly  extending  his  hand.  "  I  have  long  and  favor- 
ably known  your  friends  the  Winchesters.  Indeed, 
the  old  gentleman  was  a  classmate  of  mine ;  and  who- 
ever comes  from  them  is  sure  of  a  welcome  in  my 
house." 

•  "  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Alice,  scarcely  able  to  sup- 
press her  emotions ;  for  kindness  more  often  touches  the 
fountain  of  tears  than  coldness  or  severity. 

"  Then  one  of  those  fine-looking  fellows  that  was  in- 
carcerated here  a  few  days  since  was  your  husband," 
said  Mr.  Dare,  thinking  that  the  sooner  the  trial  of 
speaking  of  this  was  over  the  better ;  and  then,  with- 
out waiting  for  a  reply,  he  continued,  — 

"  I  was  at  the  prison,  and  saw  them  when  they  were 
brought  in ;  and  I  told  Mrs.  Dare,  upon  my  return  home, 
that,  if  ever  innocent  men  were  shut  up  within  those 
walls,  they  were  such." 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  sir :  you  "  — ;  but  she  could  say 
no  more :  the  fountain  of  tears  was  completely  broken 
up,  and  she  wept  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"  Weep  away,"  said  the  good  man,  while  a  suspicious 
moisture  gathered  in  his  own  eyes,  —  "weep  away:  it 
will  do  you  good.  I  will  leave  you  to  yourself  a  littl", 
till  I  prepare  my  wife  and  daughters  for  your  acquaint- 


GOD'S  ELECT.  115 

ance  :  in  the  mean  time,  take  off  your  things;  for  you 
will  not  leave  us  to-night,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  for 
many  days  to  come.  Your  friends  tell  me  that  you  wish 
a  situation  where  you  can  support  yourself  and  be  near 
your  husband  ;  and  we  need  some  one  very  much  just 
now  as  governess  for  our  three  youngest  children." 

And  thus  did  this  man,  who  was  considered  no  longer 
good  enough  to  teach  those  who  were  deemed  neither 
fit  nor  safe  to  mingle  in  society,  —  thus  did  he  pour  the 
oil  of  consolation  into  this  bruised  and  almost  broken 
heart ;  and  thus  did  Alice  find  a  home,  friends,  and  the 
tenderest  sympathy,  among  strangers. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Mr.  Dare  to  read  a  portion  of 
Scripture  each  morning,  and  afterward  to  invoke  the 
divine  blessing  upon  himself  and  family.  He  had  been 
educated  to  this ;  had  kept  it  up  for  many  years  ;  and 
had,  till  recently,  done  so  more  from  the  force  of  habit 
than  any  thing  else.  But,  having  perused  several  pro- 
gressive works  of  late,  he  was  able  to  take  a  broader,  a 
more  extensive  view  of  things :  so  much  so,  that  what 
had  once  seemed  to  overshadow  eternity,  he  now  found 
touched  only  upon  points  of  time.  The  significance  of 
the  present  grew  greater,  —  so  much  greater,  that  it 
needed  what  he  had  once  supposed  referred  only  to  a 
future  world  to  meet  the  demands  and  explain  the  phe- 
nomena of  to-day. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  awakened  views,  the 
chapter  read  from  morning  to  morning  assumed  a  new 
interest  to  him  ;  the  pages  of  the  Bible  gleamed  with  a 
new  light,  which  showed  the  darkness  of  the  past,  as  well 
as  of  the  present,  —  the  dark  chambers  of  its  inspired 
nrinds,  as  dark  where  not  illuminated  as  were  tie 


116  ALICE   VALE. 

minds  of  those  who  made  no  such  claims.  Thus  he 
thought,  not  realizing  that  the  light  came  from  his  own 
soul,  —  that  all  things  are  dark  to  him  whose  eyes  are 
closed. 

Some  six  weeks  after  Alice  came  there,  the  morning 
lesson  was  the  eighth  chapter  of  Paul's  Epistle  to  the 
Romans :  and,  in  the  remarks  made,  the  doctrine  of  elec- 
tion very  naturally  came  up  for  discussion. 

"  If  these,  and  similar  texts  taken  to  prove  the  doc- 
trine of  election,  really  referred  to  an  eternal  life  beyond 
the  grave,"  said  Mrs.  Dare,  "  what  thinking  being 
could  look  upon  God  as  other  than  an  infinite  tyrant  ?  " 

"  And  still,  wife,  my  observation  goes  to  prove  that 
every  generally,  or  even  largely  received  opinion  has 
its  foundation  in  truth  ;  and,  such  being  the  case,  what 
think  you,  Mabel,  is  the  real  meaning  of  the  term 
'  God's  elect,' "  said  Mr.  Dare,  turning  to  his  oldest 
daughter. 

"  I  think,  father,  that  the  term,  as  it  is  now  under- 
stood, has  its  foundation  in  man's  ignorance,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"  We  are  not  speaking  of  the  term  as  now  understood, 
my  daughter,  but  of  the  law  in  nature,  the  reflection  of 
which  has  given  rise  to  the  idea." 

"  I  think,"  said  mild-eyed  Maud,  "  that  all  are  God's 
elect,  each  for  the  place  they  can  best  fill ;  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  this  truth  shining  brighter  in  some  souls 
than  in  others  has  led  to  the  especializing  of  a  universal 
principle." 

"  Pretty  well  expressed,  little  Maud,"  said  her  father ; 
"  but  I  hardly  think  it  will  cover  the  whole  ground." 

"  Father,"  said  Susie,  "  every  one  can  not  be  presi- 


GOD'S  ELECT.  Ill 

dent,  or  there  were  no  private  citizens,  no  government : 
now,  we  elect  our  president,  governor,  and  other  offi- 
cers of  state  ;  but  that  does  not  prove  that  those  who 
are  not  elected  are  lost,  cast  out  from  the  benefits  of  the 
government.  And  why  may  not  God  thus  elect  cer- 
tain persons,  or  certain  nations,  to  perform  some  impor- 
tant part  in  the  economy  of  his  government,  and  still 
hold  all  under  his  living  care,  as  heirs  to  life  eternal." 

"  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings,"  mur- 
mured the  mother  ;  while  the  father  said,  "  The  best 
explanation  I  ever  heard,  Susie.  William,  have  you 
nothing  to  say  upon  this  question  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,  father,"  said  the  young  man,  "  of 
the  many  examples  we  have  of  things  that  are  alike 
being  chosen  for  different  purposes,  and  the  different 
treatment  to  which  they  are  subjected  on  that  account. 
Take,  for  instance,  a  field  of  wheat :  from  the  sowing 
to  the  harvesting,  —  yes,  till  after  it  is  threshed,  it  is 
treated  as  one  ;  but,  after  that,  look  at  the  difference. 
The  largest  portion  is  set  apart  for  present  use,  but 
the  best  portion  as  seed  for  a  future  harvest.  Now, 
that  which  is  for  present  use  could  glory,  were  it  con- 
scious, in  ministering  to  our  wants  ;  in  finding  a  place 
upon  our  tables ;  resting  upon  china,  perhaps  as  snowy 
biscuits  ;  eaten  by  the  6lite  of  the  land  in  the  form  of 
crust  for  the  richly-made  pie  ;  or  forming  the  substantial 
part  of  the  delicate  bride's  cake,  —  places  of  honor  all ; 
—  while  that  which  has  been  selected  for  seed  lies  in 
darkness  and  silence,  decaying,  dying,  that  its  fruit  may 
appear  in  the  future. 

"  Now,  is  it  not  thus  in  human  life  ?  Do  not  the 
greater  portion  of  the  race  meet  and  mingle  upon  the 


118  ALICE   VALE. 

plane  of  the  present,  —  some  in  high,  and  some  in  low 
positions,  even  as  flour  from  wheat  is  found  in  the  poor 
man's  cot  upon  the  wooden  trencher,  as  well  as  upon 
the  millionaire's  massive  plate :  and  so  of  the  human 
masses  ;  each  ministering,  as  they  have  the  power,  to 
the  needs  of  the  sphere  in  which  they  are  found.  But 
there  is  still  another  class,  few  in  number,  and  not  ap- 
preciated in  the  present,  because  their  work  is  not  for 
the  present. 

"  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  that,  if  thei'e  is  a  class  upon 
earth  who  can  justly  be  called  God's  elect,  these  are 
the  ones." 

"  A  good  illustration,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Dare  :  "  still, 
no  one  view,  no  one  illustration,  can  cover  the  entire 
ground.  Truth  so  pervades  nature,  that  her  shadow  is 
reflected  from  every  point :  but  it  is  only  the  shadow  ; 
and  we,  as  reasoning  beings,  must  trace  them  to  their 
source  to  find  the  substance.  Mrs.  Dare,  will  you  not 
give  us  something-upon  this  question  ?  " 

"  I  will  try ;  but  I  do  not  think  I  can  improve  upon 
what  the  children  have  said.  I  shall  go  to  the  forest 
for  my  illustration.  We  find  a  great  variety  of  trees 
here  ;  and  they  can  be  put  to  a  great  variety  of  uses,  — 
uses  that  each  shall  fill  in  its  own  time.  But  the  owner 
desires  to  accomplish  some  especial  object,  —  an  object 
in  which  some  of  this  timber  must  'bear  a  part ;  so  he 
goes  through  the  forest,  and  elects,  chooses,  sucli  trees 
as  will  best  suit  his  purpose,  passing  the  others  by. 
Now,  those  that  are  chosen  are  not  saved,  nor  the  others 
lost,  in  any  true  sense  of  that  term." 

"  I  think  your  illustration  better  than  William's,  wife, 
from  the  fact  that  it  can  be  carried  out  more  fully.  In 


GOD'S  ELECT.  119 

the  grinding,  the  bolting,  or,  to  make  the  application, 
the  discipline,  the  suffering,  come  upon  the  wrong  side." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  suffering  in  the  present  is  the 
portion  of  the  elect  ?  "  said  Alice,  now  speaking  for  the 
first  time. 

"  I  believe  that  '  whom  the  Lord  loAreth  he  chasten- 
eth,'  in  the  same  sense  that  the  man  chasteneth  the 
tree  he  has  chosen.  He  needs  it  for  a  purpose:  he  sees 
within  it  that  which  will  meet  his  need,  but  not  in  its 
present  condition.  Choosing  it  from  the  rest,  he  may, 
in  a  sense,  be  said  to  love  it :  still,  the  very  next  step  is 
the  ponderous  axe  cleaving  its  side,  blow  after  blow, 
with  no  heed  to  its  echoing  groans,  till  it  yields  at  last, 
and  comes  to  the  earth  with  a  crash." 

"  O  papa  1 "  said  little  Eddie,  "  if  that  is  the  way 
God  loves  people,  I  don't  want  him  to  love  me  !  " 

The  father  smiled  as  he  looked  upon  this,  his  young- 
est darling.  "  Did  you  ever  draw  your  sled  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  for  the  sake  of  riding  down  upon  it,  my 
son?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  papa,  many  a  time  :  it  is  such  fun." 

"  What,  drawing  the  sled  up  the  hill  ?  " 

"  No,  not  that :  I  don't  like  that  part ;  but  the  going 
down  again,  —  oh  !  it  is  so  nice,  and  especially  if  the  track 
is  long  and  smooth." 

"  The  longer  the  track,  the  farther  you  have  to  walk 
and  draw  your  sled." 

"  Yes  ;  but  we  don't  mind  that.'' 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Why !  Because  we  are  thinking  all  the  time  of 
the  ride  back,  to  be  sure." 

"  Suppose  that  you  did  not  know  of  the  ride  back  ; 


120  ALICE   VALE. 

suppose  the  slide  was  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  hill, 
and  you  could  not  know  of  it  till  you  reached  the  top : 
what  then  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  papa,  I  think  the  sled  would  draw  rather 
hard." 

"  Now,  suppose  the  work  to  be  done  was  ten,  twenty, 
or  even  fifty  times  as  hard,  and  you  were  told  that  you 
shoiild  be  fully  compensated,  but  how  or  when  you  could 
not  know." 

"  Papa,  may  I  answer  that  ?  "  said  Jennie. 

"  Certainly,  my  child." 

"  We  should  have  to  believe,  to  walk  by  faith,  or  be 
very  miserable." 

"  What,  then,  does  faith  save  us  from,  present  or  fu- 
ture misery  ?  " 

"  From  present  misery,  —  does  it  not  ?  " 

"  It  does,  my  child  ;  and  yet  the  most  of  people  be- 
lieve that  faith  is  necessary  in  order  to  salvation  from 
eternal  misery :  but  the  teachings  of  nature  are,  that 
faith  in  the  future  is  needed  to  secure,  not  future,  but 
present  happiness." 

"  This  office  of  faith  is  so  very  plain  that  I  don't  see 
how  any  one  can  misunderstand  it,"  said  Mabel. 

"  Still,  they  do,  as  we  have  abundant  evidence  ;  but 
have  we  not  wandered  from  the  subject  ?  I  should 
like  to  have  a  more  full  application  of  these  illustrations 
to  the  question  of  God's  elect,"  replied  Maud. 

"  Suppose  you  make  the  application  yourself,"  said 
Mr.  Dare. 

"  I  would  rather  hear  you,  father ;  for  I  think,  from 
one  remark  you  made,  that  you  and  I  would  agree :  if 
your  ideas  differ  from  mine,  I  will  give  mine  afterward. 
Please  analyze  William's  first." 


GOD'S  ELECT.  121 

"  Well,  then,  Miss  Critical,  the  comparison  of  the 
wheat  appears  good  on  the  surface,  and  is  very  suggest- 
ive :  but,  upon  looking  closer,  we  find  that  the  field 
where  the  wheat  is  sown  represents  more  properly  the 
individual  chosen  to  do  a  work  for  the  future  ;  for,  in  the 
breaking  up  and  tearing  to  pieces  of  the  soil,  we  have  a 
fit  symbol  of  the  trials,  the  discipline,  to  which  such 
souls  are  sure  to  be  subjected,  while  the  wheat  stands 
for  the  harvest  of  thoughts  generated  in  their  minds  by 

O  O  v 

these  experiences,  and  brought  forth  to  bless  the  world." 

"  Is  that  all,  father  ?" 

"  All  that  I  have  to  say  now,  Maud :  I  wait  for  you." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  the  seed-wheat  poorly  repre- 
sent the  thoughts  of  the  world's  great  reformers,  from 
the  fact  that  a  harvest  is  contemplated  of  the  same  kind 
and  quality  ;  whereas,  in  the  realm  of  mind,  God  chooses 
and  prepares  his  agents  for  the  especial  purpose  of  their 
becoming  channels  through  which  broader,  deeper,  higher 
thoughts  may  flow  from  himself  to  the  great  heart  of 
humanity." 

"  Little  Sis,"  a  term  by  which  they  called  her,  from 
the  fact  that  sickness  had  checked  her  growth  till  her 
size  did  not  correspond  with  her  years :  "  Little  Sis," 
said  William,  "  I  think  I  shall  have  to  take  lessons  of 
you  in  logic  ;  but  you  must  not,  on  that  account,  get 
strong-minded,  and  fancy  that  it  is  your  business  to  go 
out  and  teach  the  world." 

"  '  Must  not  ? '  Is  not  that,  strong  language  from 
pupil  tor  teacher?  "  said  she  archly. 

"  Well,  please  don't,  then." 

"And  why  not?  I  opine  that  I  should  find  many 
people  more  ignorant  than  my  brother ;  and  who  knows 


122  ALICE   VALE. 

but  I  am  one  of  God's  elect,  chosen  through  suffering 
for  this  very  purpose  ?  " 

This  retort  provoked  a  general  laugh  ;  which  was 
changed,  however,  into  the  quiet,  tender  tear,  as  they 
looked  upon  her  shrunken  form  and  earnest  face. 

The  moment's  silence  thus  caused  was  broken  by  Mr. 
Dare's  saying  to  Alice,  — 

"  Mrs.  Shepherd,  will  you  not  favor  us  by  giving  your 
opinion  ?  " 

"  I  am  under  the  cloud,"  she  replied,  "  and  can  not 
see  clearly ;  therefore  have  none  to  give." 

"Under  the  cloud, — under  the  cloud;"  how  those 
words  lingered  with  her  as  an  echo  of  the  past !  how 
they  took  her  back  to  Pete,  and  the  last  conversation 
held  with  him ! 

Had  he  not  said  that  she  would  yet  see  and  hear,  but 
there  was  a  cloud  between.  A  part  of  the  prophecy 
had  come  true :  why  not  the  other  ? 


DESPAIR.  123 


CHAPTER  X. 

DESPAIR. 

NE  morning,  when  Alice  had  been  three 
months  in  Mr.  Dare's  family,  Jennie  came 
to  her  room  with,  — 

"  Mrs.  Shepherd,  there  is  a  gentleman 
in  the  parlor  who  wishes  to  see  you." 
"  To  see  me  ?     Do  you  know  who  it  is,  Jennie  ?  " 
"  I  do  not :  he  said  he  came  from  your  old  home." 
Alice  sat  and  thought  a  moment.     "Jennie,  please 
go  and  ask  him  to  send  up  his  name." 

The  child  did  as  she  was  requested,  and  returned  in 
a  few  moments  with  "  William  Holten,  with  best  re- 
spects to  Mrs.  Shepherd,"  written  upon  a  neat  card. 

Upon  taking  it  into  her  hand,  Alice  felt  a  shudder 
running  through  her  frame,  and  that  before  she  had  seen 
the  name,  as  she  herself  wondered,  as  she  thought  of  it 
afterward. 

For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  as  if  she  dreaded  to  look  : 
but,  when  she  had  read  it,  a  cold,  stern  look  settled  upon 
her  features ;  and,  taking  a  pencil,  she  wrote  underneath, 
"  Mrs.  Shepherd  will  be  excused,"  and  sent  it  for  an- 
swer to  the  gentleman  in  waiting. 

"I  was  frightened,"  said  Jennie,  in  telling  her  sisters 
of  the  circumstance,  "  he  looked  so  angry  ;  ar  d,  as  he 
went  down  the  steps,  I  heard  him  say,  '  Curse  her :  she 


124  ALICE   VALE. 

shall  pay  for  this.'     Oh !  I  am  afraid  he  w  11  do  our  kind 
teacher  some  harm." 

"  Well,  never  mind  repeating  his  bad  words,  but  pray 
that  good  angels  may  watch  over  her,"  said  the  gentle 
Maud. 

"  That  I  do  every  night,"  replied  the  child ;  "  for 
sometimes  she  looks  so  sad,  that  I  fear  she  has  something- 
to  trouble  her." 

"  Then  we  must  try  to  make  it  up  by  being  very  kind ; 
and  I  know  that  my  little  Jennie  will  be  good,  so  as  to 
give  her  as  little  trouble  as  possible." 

"  That  1  will,  Sister  Maud ;  for  who  could  help  being 
good,  with  you  for  a  sister  and  her  for  a  teacher?  " 

Maud  kissed  her  lovingly,  and  said,  "  There,  run  away 
now,  and  see  if  mamma  does  not  want  you  ?  "  Mr. 
Dare's  younger  children  knew  nothing  of  Alice's  trouble, 
neither  did  their  parents  think  it  best  that  they  should. 

William  Holten  went  from  Mr.  Dare's  door  almost 
choking  with  rage.  Naturally  calm  and  cool,  no  matter 
how  provoked,  he  was  thus  the  more  to  be  feared.  His 
self-possession  was  equal  to  Alice's,  but  used  to  compass 
evil  ends ;  and  thus  even  his  anger  generally  partook  more 
of  the  nature  of  steady  heat  intensified,  than  otherwise. 
But  now  his  self-possession  was  so  disturbed,  that  he 
could  only  find  relief  in  revolving  plans  of  vengeance. 

"  The  proud,  insulting  jade,"  said  he  to  himself:  "  I 
will  compass  heaven  and  earth  but  I  will  yet  have  her 
in  my  power."  Having  a  friend,  an  old  crony,  who 
occupied  a  post  of  trust  in  the  prison,  Holten  went  from 
Mr.  Dare's  directly  thither ;  and  the  first  thing  he  did 
on  reaching  it  was  to  ask  for  John  Shepherd  and  Rob- 
ert Taylor. 


DESPAIR.  125 

He  was  left  in  the  waiting-room  while  the  officer  in 
charge  went  for  them.  "  I  wonder,"  he  soliloquized, 
"  if  they  will  treat  me  with  the  contempt  that  Miss  In- 
dependence did  ?  they  had  better  not ;  they  had  better 
not."  He  had  recovered  his  cool,  calculating  spirit,  and, 
as  far  as  the  external  went,  was  a  very  saint. 

The  appearance  of  the  prisoners  put  an  end  to  these 
cogitations.  With  his  face  covered  with  smiles,  he 

O  * 

arose,  extended  his  hand,  with,  "  How  are  you,  boys : 
I  am  glad  to  see  you,  though  I  wish  it  could  have  been 
elsewhere." 

"  Is  it  you,  Holten  ?  "  said  Taylor,  not  noticing  the 
extended  hand ;  while  Shepherd  folded  his  arms  upon 
his  breast,  and  remained  silent. 

"  Tut,  tut :  now,  don't  be  holding  a  grudge  against  a 
friend  for  doing  what  he  could  not  help.  I  am  sure  I 
would  not  have  appeared  against  you  could  I  have 
avoided  it,"  said  Holten,  with  one  of  his  most  winning 
smiles. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Shepherd  sarcastically. 

"  Perhaps,"  repeated  Holten.  "  I  hope,  John,  you 
do  not  suspect  me  of  lacking  in  friendship  for  you.  I 
know  that  human  nature  is  liable  to  err,  and  I  should 
be  sorry  to  cast  off  an  old  companion  for  one  fault." 

"  Silence,"  thundered  Shepherd :  "  don't  come  here 
calling  yourself  friend,  and  at  the  same  time  telling  us 
that  you  believe  us  guilty ;  "  and  then,  turning  with  the 
dignity  of  a  king  to  the  officer  in  charge,  he  said,  — 

"  Will  you  conduct  us  back  to  our  places  ?  " 

And  thus  was  Holten  left  to  himself  again ;  but  the 
malignant  smile  that  lighted  up  his  face  as  they  passed 
from  the  room  was  fearful  to  behold. 


126  ALICE   VALE. 

He  remained  in  the  city,  and  visited  his  friend  at  the 
prison  from  time  to  time  ;  sometimes  staying  the  entire 
day,  and  sometimes  only  an  hour  or  two.  This  friend, 
Frederic  Stanton  by  name,  had  charge  of  the  kitchen 
department ;  and,  ten  days  after  Holten  had  called  upon 
Alice,  word  came  to  her  that  her  husband  was  dead,  — 
had  died  very  suddenly,  and  from  some  unknown  cause. 

Mr.  Dare  was  first  informed,  and  upon  him  devolved 
the  task  of  telling  the  faithful  wife.  She  seemed  to 
have  a  presentment  of  the  coming  evil ;  for,  as  she 
looked  into  his  sad  face,  she  said  very  calmly,  "  Tell  me 
all :  I  can  bear  it  better  than  the  horror  that  has  hung 
over  me  for  the  last  few  hours."  Thus  entreated,  the 
good  man,  in  as  tender  a  manner  as  possible,  told  her  of 
her  bereavement. 

She  listened  with  a  calmness  that  was  surprising ;  and, 
when  he  was  through,  she  only  said,  — 

44  I  wish  you  to  see,  Mr.  Dare,  that  there  is  an  ex- 
amination made  as  to  the  cause  of  his  death.  I  wish 
the  contents  of  his  stomach  analyzed." 

"  You  do  not  suspect  foul  play,  Mrs.  Shepherd ! " 
said  Mr.  Dare  in  surprise. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
with  as  little  trace  of  emotion  as  though  speaking  of  any 
ordinary  circumstance,  said,  — 

"  I  think  the  same  agency  that  sent  him  to  prison 
while  innocent  has  now  sent  him  out  of  the  world." 

"  What !  how  !  "  said  Mr.  Dare,  with  increasing  sur- 
prise :  "  how  could  that  agency  reach  him  in-  prison  ?  " 

44 1  have  no  tangible  evidence  to  give,"  she  replied ; 
44  but  I  feel  it,  I  know  it :  will  you  do  what  I  ask  ?  " 

'4 1  will,  Mrs.  Shepherd ;  and  Goc1  help  you  to  bear 
this  trial !  " 


DESPAIR.  127 

"  Help,"  she  replied,  —  "  help,  when  £.11  is  gone  :  will 
He  restore  my  husband  ?  " 

"  The  good  man  sighed,  and  left  her  to  herself." 

"  How  did  she  bear  it  ?  "  asked  his  wife,  as  he  passed 
out  of  Alice's  room. 

"So  calmly  that  I  tremble  for  her  reason  :  go  to  her, 
wife,  and  see  that  she  is  not  left  alone,"  was  the  reply. 

An  examination  of  Shepherd's  stomach  revealed  the 
presence  of  poison,  but  by  whom  given  no  one  seemed 
to  have  any  idea  but  Alice ;  and  he.r  only  reply,  when 
interrogated  was,  "  I  have  no  evidence." 

A  prisoner  who  sat  next  to  him  at  meals,  and  who 
had  once  or  twice  spoken  rather  ill-humoredly  of  the 
deceased  was,  it  is  true,  subjected  to  a  slight  examina- 
tion ;  but  his  innocence  was  so  apparent  that  he  was 
soon  discharged.  William  Holten  staid  till  the  grave 
covered  his  victim,  was  very  officious  through  all,  and 
seemed  particularly  desirous  of  thrusting  himself  upon 
Alice's  notice,  —  not  for  the  purpose  of  sympathy,  as 
many  supposed,  but  that  he  might  thus  the  more 
thoroughly  torture  her. 

But  the  agony  upon  which  he  had  hoped  to  feed  his 
soul  did  not  manifest  itself.  She  shed  no  tear,  spoke  no 
word  by  means  of  which  others  might  judge  of  her  real 
feelings ;  and  those  who  had  learned  to  love  her  so 

O      * 

well  during  the  few  months  that  she  had  been  with 
them  shook  their  heads  as  they  looked  upon  her  im- 
passive face. 

When  all  was  over,  she  returned  with  Mr.  Dare's 
family  to  their  home,  went  to  her  own  room,  and, 
gathering  up  every  thing  calculated  to  remind  her  of  the 
lost  one,  she  placed  them  in  a  little  tin  trunk,  locked  it, 


128  ALICE   VALE. 

then  went  to  the  window,  threw  the  key  as  far  away  as 
she  could,  and,  sitting  down,  folded  her  hands  as  though 
she  had  nothing  further  to  do  upon  earth. 

The  door  stood  ajar,  and  Mrs.  Dare  was  watching  her 
from  a  room  across  the  hall;  but  of  this  she  seemed 
unaware,  or,  if  she  knew  it,  cared  not,  but  continued  to 
gaze  into  vacancy  — 

"  Like  the  blank  statue  of  despair, 
Or  madness  graved  in  stone." 

Mrs.  Dare  kept  up  her  unobtrusive  watch  till  the 
bell  sounded  for  supper :  then,  going  to  Alice's  door,  she 
quietly  said,  — 

"  Mrs.  Shepherd,  tea  is  ready."  Alice  made  no 
reply,  but  arose,  and  followed  her  to  the  dining-room. 
At  the  table  she  made  no  remark  whatever ;  and,  when 
the  family  attempted  to  draw  her  into  conversation,  she 
paid  no  attention  to  any  thing  that  was  said  to  her 
that  could  not  be  answered  by  yes  or  no.  The  more 
they  tried  to  direct  her  mind  from  the  source  of  her 
grief,  the  more  did  she  seem  to  shrink  into  herself;  and 
this  meal  was  but  a  sample  of  what  occurred,  day  by 
day,  for  many  weeks  following. 

She  seemed  more  like  one  dead  than  otherwise. 
True,  she  breathed,  walked,  ate,  drank,  and  slept,  the 
same  as  ever ;  but  these  were  more  the  mechanical 
movements  of  an  inanimate  object  than  the  spontaneous 
efforts  of  a  living  soul. 

Whatever  affection  could  devise,  or  ingenuity  suggest, 
to  win  her  back  to  her  former  self,  was  tried,  but  with- 
out effect.  Those  who  attempted  to  show  her  the 
sinfulness  of  undue  grief  were  s'Jen^ed  by  a  look  from 


DESPAIR.  129 

her  great  solemn  eyes,  and  retire!  from  the  task,  con- 
fessing that  the  case  was  beyond  their  reach,  and  must 
be  dealt  with  by  a  more  skillful  hand. 

She  had  lived  only  for  her  husband ;  or,  it  might 
rather  be  said  that  her  husband  was  her  life  :  and,  as 
the  body  without  the  soul  is  dead,  so  was  she  without 
the  object  of  he"f  affection  ;  and  only  he  who  had  per- 
mitted this  life  of  her  soul  to  be  taken  from  her  knew 
how  to  reinstate  therein  one  that  was  higher  and 
better. 

She  maintained  the  same  scrupulous  care  about  her 
room  and  person  that  she  had  ever  done ;  but  this  was 
so  much  the  result  of  habit,  that  it  required  no  exertion, 
no  thought  for  its  performance.  The  children  who  had 
been  her  care,  and  who  had  delighted  in  her  smile,  now 
shunned  as  much  as  they  had  once  sought  her  society. 
There  was  something  so  sacred  'in  the  deep  grief  which 
had  fallen  like  a  thick  veil  upon  her  spirit,  that  the 
joyous  laugh  of  youth  was  hushed  at  the  sight,  while 
age  looked  on  with  a  pitying  sigh. 

The  months  passed  in  quick  succession.  The  golden 
hues  of  summer  were  resting  upon  the  ripening  harvest ; 
but.no  ray  of  light  had,  as  yet,  found  its  way  into  the 
cloud  resting  upon  her  spirit.  Sunshine  and  storm, 
cold  and  heat,  summer  and  winter,  were  alike  to  one 
who  was  insensible  to  outward  influences. 

Friends  began  to  despair,  looking  upon  her  case  as 
hopeless.  Addie  Winchester  had  tried  in  vain  to 
induce  her  to  stay  a  while  with  them ;  and  Mr.  Dare 
himself  said  that  she  was  incurable,  unless  she  could 
be  benefited  by  treatment  in  a  neighboring  asylum,  to 
which  place  he  was  about  to  have  her  removed,  when 
9 


130  ALICE  VALE. 

an  uncle,  her  father's  youngest  and  only  remaining 
brother,  came  to  seek  her. 

His  presence  awoke  the  memories  of  childhood,  and 
for  a  time  she  seemed  partially  to  revive. 

This  uncle  was  but  two  years  the  senior  of  Alice, 
had  been  the  playmate  of  her  childhood,  and  the 
affection  subsisting  between  them  was  more  like  that  of 
brother  and  sister  than  aught  else.  She  was  but  ten 
years  of  age  when  her  grandparents  removed  to  the 
far  West ;  and  long  and  bitterly  did  she  lament  the  loss 
of  her  Uncle  James. 

She  knew  him,  notwithstanding  the  change  that 
years  had  made ;  and  for  the  first  time  in  all  these 
weary  months  she  smiled.  She  seemed  interested 
when  he  told  her  of  his  Western  home,  his  beautiful 
residence,  his  lovely  wife,  and  the  little  daughter  named 
for  herself;  but,  when  he  attempted  to  draw  from  her 
something  of  her  own  history,  she  turned  away  with 
such  a  look  of  agony  upon  her  face,  that  he  never  dared 
to  approach  the  subject  again. 

After  some  entreaty,  he  induced  her  to  go  to  New- 
York  City  with  him,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  old 
scenes  and  old  friends.  She  had  been  there  but  two 
days,  however,  when  she  met  Robert  Sawtelle,  and 
from  that  time  forth  she  could  be  induced  to  go  out  no 
more.  She  relapsed  gradually  into  her  old  condition, 
and  thus  were  her  friends  doomed  to  disappointment. 

True,  she  consented  to  go  with  her  uncle  to  his 
Western  home  ;  but  it  was  in  a  spirit  of  passive  hope- 
lessness, that  left  no  expectation  of  her  being  benefited 
thereby.  They  stopped  at  different  points  on  their  way 
westward ;  visited  relations  both  on  her  father's  and 


DESPAIR.  131 

mother's  side :  but  still  the  lovely  sufferer  was  sunk  in 
apathy,  still  she  bowed  like  one  benumbed  beneath  the 
stroke  of  her  affliction. 

James  Vale  looked  on  in  sadness.  Sorrowfully  he 
asked  within  himself,  "  And  is  there  nothing  that  will 
penetrate  the  darkness  ?  "  and  echo  answered,  "  Nothing 
that  human  wisdom  can  devise." 

They  were  but  two  days  from  their  journey's  end 
when  Alice  came  into  the  sitting-room  in  the  morning 
with  a  smile  upon  her  face  ;  and,  in  answer  to  her  uncle's 
inquiring  look,  said,  — 

"  Uncle  James,  I  have  seen  Pete,  —  Crazy  Pete,  they 
used  to  call  him." 

u  Where  did  you  see  him,  Alice  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  came  and  stood  beside  my  bed,  uncle." 

"  Came  and  stood  beside  your  bed!  What  business 
had  he  in  your  room  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand,  uncle  ! "  said  she.  "  Pete 
was  the  best  playmate  I  ever  had." 

"  Better  than  Uncle  James  ?  " 

"  If  you  interrupt  me  again,  I  shall  tell  you  nothing 
further,"  said  she,  with  a  spark  of  her  old  vivacity. 
"  Yes :  better  than  Uncle  James ;  for  he  told  me  of  things 
that  others  do  not  seem  to  know  any  thing  about.  Peo- 
ple called  him  crazy ;  but  he  wasn't.  Well,  he  died 
more  than  five  years  ago.  He  told  me  of  it  before  it 
happened,  though  he  didn't  call  it  dying.  He  said  that 
he  was  going  to  live  with  his  mother,  —  that  she  came 
and  told  him  so. 

"  He  said  that  I  should  see  as  he  did  some  day,  — 
should  both  see  and  hear,  —  but  that  there  was  a  dark 
cloud  between.  God  knows  that  the  cloud  has  come, 


132  ALICE   VALE. 

and  dark  enough  too  ; "  and,  sinking  into  a  chair,  she 
broke  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping. 

Blessed  tears  !  How  they  soothed  the  parched  brain  ! 
how  they  relieved  the  dull  ache  of  the  heart ! 

Mr.  Vale  was  astonished.  Her  words  indicated  to 
him  an  increase  of  her  malady  ;  but  her  looks  and  her 
tears  were  the  reverse.  He  wisely  resolved,  however, 
to  let  her  weep  as  long  as  she  pleased. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  was  sufficiently  calm  to 
speak  again  ;  and,  when  she  did,  her  first  words  were,  — 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,  uncle,  that  it  was  a  dream ; 
for  I  know  I  was  awake." 

"  I  presume  you  think  you  were :  some  dreams  are 
very  vivid,  Alice,"  he  replied. 

"  I  tell  you  I  was  not  dreaming :  I  had  not  been  to 
sleep.  I  heard  the  clock  strike  one,  two,  three  ;  and,  just 
after  the  last,  I  saw  Peter  standing  by  my  bed,  looking 
just  as  when  I  saw  him  last.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
smiled  so  sweetly,  pointed  the  way  we  are  going,  shook 
his  head,  bowed,  smiled  again,  and  was  gone.  I  was  not 
a  bit  afraid,  but  so  glad  :  for,  if  I  can  see  him,  I  shall  see 
John  some  time  ;  "  and  again  she  fell  to  weeping.  This  . 
was  the  first  time  that  she  had  spoken  her  husband's 
name  since  his  form  was  buried  from  her  sight. 

Puzzled  beyond  his  power  to  solve,  Mr.  Vale  resolved 
to  humor  her  fancies,  as  he  believed  them  to  be,  and  so 
asked,  — 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he  meant,  Alice,  by  shaking 
his  head,  then  smiling  again  ?  " 

"  It  seemed  to  me  to  indicate  danger  close  at  hand, 
but  that  it  would  be  safely  passed." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  uncle :  I  only  feel  that  it  is  so." 


DESPAIR.  133 

"  Well,  well,  we  will  think  no  more  about  it  now : 
there  is  the  bell  for  breakfast,  and  the  train  goes  soon 
after.  If  we  have  no  bad  luck,  we  shall  reach  home  to- 
morrow." 

All  that  day  Alice  continued  cheerful ;  and  still  her 
uncle  watched  her  even  more  closely  than  before .  Man's 
efforts  to  restore  her  had  failed,  because  they  had  no 
comfort  to  give ;  but,  when  the  angels  came  with  their 
healing,  they  were  distrusted. 


134  ALICE   VALE. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

RETRIBUTION. 

j]ND  where  was  Holten  all  of  this  time  ? 
Had  the  leopard  changed  his  skin,  or  the 
tiger  his  nature  ?  Had  he  given  up  the 
object  for  which  he  had  periled  so  much  ? 
Far  from  it. 

The  idea  of  possessing  Alice  Shepherd  had  taken 
entire  control  of  him,  —  was  the  master,  and  he  the  slave. 
For  this  he  had  given  up  his  place  in  Mr.  Brown's  store, 
resolved  that  nothing  should  stand  between  him  and  the 
accomplishment  of  his  nefarious  purpose.  And  for  this 
he  had  followed  them  from  point  to  point  with  the  per- 
tinacity of  a  hawk  in  pursuit  of  a  dove. 

He  had  disguised  himself,  so  that  Alice  did  not  recog- 
nize his  person ;  and  he  was  careful  that  she  should  not 
hear  his  voice,  and  recognize  him  by  that.  In  this  man- 
ner he  would  ride  behind  them  in  the  cars  for  hours, 
catching  every  word,  and  thus,  learning  their  plans, 
would  lay  his  accordingly. 

It  is  said  that  "  like  attracts  like,"  and  that  if  we 
"  seek  we  shall  find."  It  is  certain,  that,  in  Holten's 
case,  one  disguise  attracted  another,  and  that,  in  accept- 
ing another  rascal's  aid  as  he  supposed,  he  only  plucked 
the  fruit  grown  from  seed  of  his  own  planting. 

Before  he  came  to  the  peaceful  village  where  Alice 


RETRIBUTION.  135 

had  resided,  he  was  acquainted  with  two  boys  by  tho 
names  of  Berton  Cooley  and  Silas  Porter.  These  boys, 
striplings  just  verging  into  manhood,  looked  enough 
alike  to  have  been  brothers  ;  though  it  was  not  known 
that  there  was  any  relationship  between  them.  But, 
though  alike  in  person,  it  was  hardly  possible  for  two  to 
be  more  unlike  in  disposition. 

Silas  Porter  was  an  honest  lad,  who  toiled  hard  to 
help  support  his  mother  and  sister,  and  despised  mean- 
ness of  all  kinds  as  heartily  as  mean,  tricky  boys  hated 
him  :  while  Berton  Cooley, 'or  "  Bert,"  as  he  was  called, 
was  just  the  reverse  ;  and  the  meaner,  the  more  tricky, 
one  was,  the  better  he  liked  him. 

Though  Holten  was  some  years  the  oldest,  still  he 
and  Bert  were  fast  friends,  and  continued  so  till  Holten 
chanced  to  see  Porter's  sister.  But  from  this  time  forth 
he  assiduously  cultivated  Porter's  friendship,  and  seemed 
to  have  broken  entirely  with  Cooley  ;  but  the  following 
conversation,  which  took  place  between  them  about  this 
time,  shows  the  true  state  of  the  case. 

"  Cooley,  are  you  acquainted  with  Porter's  sister  ?  " 
said  Holten  one  day,  soon  after  seeing  Miss  Porter  for 
the  first  time. 

"  Not  much  :  she  is  too  d d  proud  for  me." 

""Proud ;  and  pray  what  has  she  to  be  proud  of,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more  than  other  folks.  I  think  it  is  her 
brother's  fault:  for  he  seems  determined  that  none  but 
the  good  folks,  the  saints,  shall  come  near  her. 

"  God !  how  I  should  like  to  get  her  away  from  him, 
to  pay  him  for  some  of  his  impudence  !  Don't  you  think 
he  told  me  the  other  day,  right  to  my  face,  that  I  wasn'* 
fit  for  any  decent  girl  to  associate  with." 


136  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Why  didn't  you  knock  him  down  ?  I  rould  have 
done  it  for  you  had  I  been  there,"  said  Holten,  smother- 
ing the  joy  he  felt  at  thus  finding  a  tool  ready  for  his 
purpose,  under  a  well-feigned  indignation  at  what  he 
called  his  friend's  wrongs. 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  there,  Holten.  I  would  have 
knocked  his  teeth  down  his  throat,  only  he  had  too  many 
friends  around." 

"  Yes  :  that's  it,  Cooley.  Such  fellows  always  have 
plenty  of  friends ;  and  the  only  way  that  we  can  get  the 
start  of  them  is  by  stratagem.  Now,  I  have  a  plan, 
Bert ;  and,  if  you  will  assist  me,  I  think  we  can  carry  it 
out." 

"  Name  it !  name  it !  any  thing  to  make  him  bite  the 
dust,  and  I  am  with  you." 

"  Cool,  keep  cool,  Bert,  or  I  shall  not  dare  to  trust 
you." 

"  Yes :  I'll  be  as  cool  as  an  iceberg  in  January,  if  that 
is  what  you  want." 

"  But  I  shall  have  to  cut  your  acquaintance,  call  you 
a  bad  boy,  &c." 

"  Why  must  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  To  make  Porter  and  his  sister  think  I  am  all  right,  — 
that  I  am  one  of  the  saints." 

"  I  don't  see  the  use  of  that." 

"  Not  if  I  succeed  in  making.  Marion  Porter  what  her 
brother  would  shoot  any  one  for  calling  her  now  ?  " 

"  O  Holten  !  that  would  be  too  bad." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  the  girl  ?  "  saii  Holten  with  a 
meaning  smile. 

"  And  so  I  do  ;  but  I  hate  her  brother." 

"  Have  you  any  hope,  any  chance,  of  success  ?  " 


RETRIBUTION.  137 

"  Not  in  the  least,  that  I  can  see." 

*'  And  all  through  her  brother's  watchfulness  ?  " 

"  Not  wholly.  I  don't  think  I  could  win  the  girl 
anyhow." 

"  Then  she  is  proud  too.  No,  Bert ,"  continued 
Holten  :  "  there  is  no  hope  for  you,  unless  she  is  hum- 
bled. I  can  see  that  in  her  eye.  If  you  were  not  so 
well  acquainted  with  her,  I  would  advise  you  to  play 
good ;  but  now  you  would  be  suspected  if  you  attempted 
it  But,  if  you  will  remain  my  friend,  I  will  win  her, 
and  then  throw  her  into  your  arms.  She  will  be  only 
too  glad  to  find  a  friend  when  I  leave  her. 

"  You  can  thus  possess  ker,  and  have  your  revenge 
on  her  brother.  .You  are  but  young  yet :  in  a  year 
you  will  seem  much  more  like  a  man,  will  have  a  better 
chance  with  the  girls  ;  and  it  will  take  me  at  least  a  year 
to  get  around  the  beauty,  for  I  shall  have  to  play  sharp, 
or  faH." 

The  lad,  for  he  was  hardly  nineteen,  studied  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said,  "  Holten,  I  swear  I  will  do  it." 

"  Your  hand  on  it,"  said  Holten. 

"  Yes :  my  hand  on  it ;  here  it  is. .  But  I  didn't  think 
there  was  so  much  devil  about  you,  Holten." 

Holten  smiled  at  the  compliment.  "  We  must  look 
out  for  number  one,  in  this  world  of  Priests  and  Le- 
vites,"  said  he,  "  or  go  to  the  wall." 

"  Are  you  sure,  Cooley,"  he  continued,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence,  "  that  you  can  carry  this  thing  out  ?  Re- 
member, that  to  the  outside  world  we  are  enemies, — 
must  act  as  such  on  all  occasions ;  or,  rathe* ,  you  must 
be  my  enemy,  and  curse  me  for  trying  to  make  a  good 
boy  of  you." 


138  ALICE   VALE. 

"Yes:  I'll  remember,"  said  Cooley.  "Oh,  how 
hard  you  are  trying  now  !  I  think  I  shall  be  good  soon  ;  " 
and,  throwing  himself  upon  the  grass,  he  laughed  till  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

And  thus  was  the  compact  made  between  these  two, 
and  all  for  the  purpose  of  ruining  one  innocent  girl. 

Holten  worked  faithfully  for  a  year,  and  succeeded 
only  in  breaking  Marion  Porter's  heart.  He  never  had 
the  privilege  of  possessing  her  himself,  much  less  that  of 
throwing  her  into  his  friend's  arms,  as  he  had  boasted. 

Marion  learned  to  love  him,  believing  him  to  be  noble 
and  true.  When  she  found  to  the  contrary,  the  shock 
was  too  severe  for  her  gentle,  loving  nature ;  and, 
broken-hearted,  she  sank  rapidly  to  the  grave. 

Her  brother  said  but  little  ;  but  such  was  the  determi- 
nation of  his  look,  and  the  fire  of  his  eye,  that  Holten 
thought  best  to  leave  the  place. 

When  Porter  found  he  had  really  gone,  he  simply 
remarked,  "  The  atmosphere  is  at  least  free  from  the 
poison  of  his  presence."  Cooley,  too,  soon  after  left 
the  neighborhood ;  but,  before  going,  he  had  revealed 
to  a  companion  the  compact  he  had  made  with  Holten  : 
that  friend  told  it  to  another  ;  and  he  had  not  been  gone 
two  weeks,  before  it  came  to  Porter's  ears. 

"  Well  for  him  that  I  did  not  know  it  sooner,"  saic 
Silas  quietly ;  but  from  that  time  forth  he  watched 
and  waited.  From  that  time  two  individuals  stood  forth 
so  plainly  on  the  page  of  his  memory,  that  there  was 
not  the  least  danger  of  their  being  forgotten. 

During  the  autumn  that  Alice  and  her  uncle  were  thus 

O 

visiting  from  place  to  place,  Silas  Porter,  now  grown  to 
the  full  vigor  of  manhood,  held  a  commission  as  travel- 


KETKIB  UTION.  139 

ing  agent  for  a  flourishing  firm  in  Buffalo,  and  several 
times  he  had  been  a  passenger  in  the  same  train  with 
them.  Latterly  he  had  noticed  a  man  near  them 
several  times,  whom  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  ought  to 
know  ;  and  still  he  could  not  remember  where  they  had 
met. 

He  further  noticed,  that  this  strange  man  was  sure  to 
be  near  the  sad-looking  lady  and  her  companion ;  but 
that,  though  watching  them  closely,  he  never  spoke  to 
them.  "  I  must  unravel  this  mystery,''  said  he  to  him- 
self; "  and,  if  there  does  not  prove  to  be  mischief  at  the 
bottom  of  it,  I  am  mistaken." 

On  the  morning  that  Alice  averred  she  had  seen  Pete, 
it  so  chanced  that  James  Vale,  Alice,  Silas  Porter,  and 
this  stranger  went  to  the  depot  in  the  same  hack,  and 
took  seats  near  each  other  in  the  same  car ;  and,  while 
stepping  from  the  hack,  the  stranger  made  an  impatient 
gesture,  by  means  of  which  Porter  recognized  him. 

"It  is  Holten  disguised:  lam  rightabout  the  mis- 
chief," was  his  quick  thought.  Alice,  for  the  first  time 
since  she  started,  was  cheerful.  Holten  watched  her 
with  increased  interest,  and  Porter  watched  him. 

All  at  once,  Porter  remembered  how  much  he  used 
to  resemble  Berton  Cooley.  "  I  will  do  it,"  said  he  :  "I 
will  pass  myself  for  Cooley,  and  claim  his  acquaintance." 

With  him  to  resolve  was  to  do ;  and,  taking  a  seat  be- 
side Holten,  he  said,  — 

'•  I've  been  thinking,  sir,  that  I  ought  to  know  you; 
but,  until  this  moment,  have  puzzled  my  brains  in  vain." 

Holten  gave  him  a  quick-side  glance,  and  rer.  lied,  "  I 
think  you  are  mistaken :  I  have  never  met  yo  i,  to  my 
knowledge." 


140  ALICE   VALE. 

Porter  put  his  finger  to  his  lip,  cast  a  quick  glance 
toward  Alice  and  her  uncle,  and  then  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"  Come  this  way,  sir,  and  I  will  talk  with  you."  . 

Holten  looked  surprised,  then  distrustful,  but  finally 
decided  to  go.  They  took  a  seat  in  the  farther  end  of 
the  car,  when  HoUen  demanded,  "  Now,  sir,  I  wish  to 
know  what  this  means  ?  " 

'  It  means  that  I  do  not  wish  to  frighten  your  game, 
so  thought  it  best  to  get  beyond  their  hearing,"  replied 
Porter  with  a  laugh. 

Holten  scowled  savagely,  and  placed  his  hand  upon 
his  pistol.  "  This  is  beyond  endurance." 

"  Oh  !  don't  wake  up  that  barker  now !  "  said  Porter, 
laughing  harder  than  ever :  "  this  is  a  pretty  greeting  for 
an  old  friend,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  continued. 

"  In  the  Devil's  name,  who  are  you  ?  "  growled  Holten 
In  reply. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  remember  Bert  Cooley,  eh  ?  " 
replied  Porter  with  the  utmost  coolness. 

Holten's  countenance  changed  :  he  scanned  the  man 
beside  him  closely.  "  It  can't  be,"  said  he  ;  "  and  yet  I 
do  see  some  resemblance." 

"  And  I  see  some  resemblance  between  you  and 
William  Holten,"  replied  Porter,  mimicking  his  tones. 

"  You  do  know  me  ;  but  I  was  not  certain  of  it  till  you 
called  my  name,"  said  Holten,  grasping  Porter's  hand : 
"  but  how  in  h — 1  did  you  recognize  me  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  watched  you.  I  thought  there  was  some- 
thing about  you  that  was  familiar ;  and  I  kept  thinking 
where  had  I  seen  you  ?  At  last  you  made  a  peculiar 
motion  that  I  never  saw  any  one  else  make :  then  I 
knew  who  it  was.  But  what  is  up  now?"  he  asked, 
glancing  toward  Alice. 


RETRIBUTION.  141 

"  Oh  !  nothing  in  particular." 

"  Now,  you  needn't  think  to  fool  me,  for  I  know  that 
there  is  :  neither  need  you  fear  to  trust  me.  Don't  you 
remember  Marion  Porter,  and  how  we  planned  about 
her.  Didn't  I  do  my  part  weU  ?  " 

"  Well  enough,"  replied  Holten  impatiently,  for  the 
subject  was  not  a  pleasant  one. 

"Oil,  now,  you  needn't  feel  badly  because  you  didn't 
succeed !  "  drawled  Porter :  "  the  best  of  folks  fail  some- 
times. I  only  spoke  of  it  to  show  you  that  I  was  true 
blue." 

"  I  believe  you  are,  Cooley,  and  I  will  try  you,"  said 
Holten ;  "  for  I  think  I  shall  need  some  help." 

"  Be  thankful,  then,  that  the  Old  Nick  has  thrown 
some  in  your  way,"  laughed  Porter,  while  Holten  pro- 
ceeded to  unfold  his  plans. 

"  At  a  farm-house  ?  "  asked  Porter. 

"  Yes :  they  stop  to-day  at  Smith's  Station.  We  reach 
there  just  before  night.  These  friends  of  theirs  live 
fifteen  miles  away,  but  will  send  a  conveyance  for  them. 
It  is  pleasant  weather,  and  their  conveyance  will  be  an 
open  two-seated  carriage  ;  and  Alice  can  be  taken  from 
the  hind  seat  easily  if  we  manage  right." 

"  To  be  sure  she  can ;  but  when  did  you  learn  all  this, 
Holten  ?  " 

"  More  than  a  week  since,  I  heard  the  gentleman  — 
uncle,  she  calls  him— -tell  her  what  day  they  should 
reach  the  end  of  their  route  by  rail,  how  far  and  in  what 
direction  his  wife's  father  lived,  and  that  he  had  written 
for  him  to  meet  them.  I  then  went  ahead  to  reconnoiter. 
I  know  every  step  of  the  way,  have  my  plans  all  laid, 
and  I  hardly  think  the  bird  will  ever  reich  that  nest. 


142  ALICE  VALE. 

She  has  insulted  me  once  too  often ;  and,  when  I  have 
her  in  my  power,  sha'n't  she  pay  for  it  though." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Porter  :  "  now  you  look  like  your 
own  self,  Holten.  I  should  hate  to  fall  into  your  power, 
were  I  your  enemy." 

"  And  well  you  might ;  but  don't  speak  quite  so  loud. 
Should  my  lady-bird  find  me  Out  before  we  leave  the 
cars,  it  would  be  all  day  with  my  plans ;  for  I  really  be- 
lieve she  can  read  my  very  thoughts  when  once  her  at- 
tention is  turned  toward  me." 

"  How  far  beyond  the  farm-house  does  this  man  (Vale, 
I  think  you  called  him)  live  ?  "  asked  Porter. 

"  Some  thirty  miles,  I  believe  :  they  intend  to  go  there 
to-morrow." 

"  And  is  the  road  across  the  prairie  away  from  settle- 
ments ?  " 

"  I  don't  really  know,  though  I  believe  it  is ;  but  why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  thought,"  said  Porter,  "  that,  if  we  failed  to-night, 
we  might  have  another  chance  to-morrow." 

"  But  we  must  not  fail,  Bert." 

"  Not  if  it  can  be  avoided ;  but  you  know,  Holten, 
that  the  best  laid  plans  of  men  and  mice  — 

«  Gang  aft  agley.' " 

"  I  know,  I  know,  Cooley  ;  but  I  swear,  by  the  Eter- 
nal God,  that  I  will  succeed  in  this,  or  die." 

"  Die,  then  ;  for  succeed,  you  shall  not,"  said  Porter 
to  himself;  but  outwardly  he  was  as  calm  as  a  summer 
morning. 

Holten  was  about  to  take  his  old  post  behind  Alice 


RETRIBUTION.  143 

and  her  uncle ;  but  Porter  prevented  him  by  saying, 
"  Let  me  sit  there,  Holten  :  I  can  plan  to  get  into  con- 
versation with  them,  and  my  voice  won't  betray  me  as 
it  might  you.  I  can  question  them,  and  find  out  if  they 
have  made  any  change  in  their  plans,  better  than  you 
can." 

"  Well,  do  so :  but  I  shall  watch  you,  Cooley ;  and,  if 
you  do  play  me  false,  I  will  shoot  you,"  said  Holten, 
looking  as  if  he  did  not  quite  trust  Porter  after  all. 

"  Nonsense  !  why  should  I  play  you  false  ?  What  in- 
terest have  I  in  these  people  ? "  said  the  pretended 
Cooley,  as  he  moved  forward  to  take  the  seat  indicated. 

He  managed  to  attract  Mr.  Vale's  attention,  and  get 
into  conversation  in  a  very  short  time;  made  himself  as 
agreeable  as  possible  ;  and,  wrhen  they  had  talked  fifteen 
or  twenty  minutes,  he  drew  Alice's  attention  to  some- 
thing that  could  be  seen  from  the  car-window,  and  at 
the  same  time  thrust  a  piece  of  paper  into  Mr.  Vale's 
hand,  on  which  was  penciled,  — 

"  Go  into  the  smoking-car :  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you.  I  will  follow  soon  :  we  are  watched. 

A  FRIEND." 

Vale  read  it,  and  instantly  the  words  of  Alice,  "  I 
think  it  meant  danger  safely  passed,"  flashed  through 
his  mind.  But  the  words,  "  we  are  watched,"  told  him 
the  necessity  of  suppressing  all  emotion ;  and  he  governed 
himself  accordingly. 

Porter  continued  to  talk  to  Alice  for  some  minutes, 
thus  giving  her  uncle  time  to  think,  —  to  plan.  Pres- 
ently, as  Porter  turned  toward  him,  4ie  said,  "I  don't 
think  I  have  a  fair  chance  with  my  niece  for  a  rival :  I 


144  ALICE  VALE. 

hardly  get  my  share  in  the  conversation.  Suppose  we 
adjourn  to  the  smoking-car ;  or  don't  you  use  the  weed  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir :  there  is  nothing  I  like  better  than 
a  good  Havana  ;  but  I  prefer  staying  here  a  little  longer, 
unless  you  are  afraid  to  trust  me  with  your  charge," 
giving  him,  at  the  same  time,  a  significant  look. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  sir  :  and  I  shall  leave  you  here 
with  the  lady  just  to  show  you  that  your  suspicions  are 
unfounded  ;  and,  rising  from  his  seat,  he  sauntered  away 
in  as  nonchalant  a  manner  as  he  conld  assume. 

Porter  talked  with  Alice,  perhaps  five  minutes  after 
he  left ;  and  then  starting  up,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting 
something  that  should  be  done  immediately,  he  said,  — 

"  Excuse  me,  lady,  but  I  must  speak  to  my  friend 
yonder  a  moment ;  and,  going  quickly  to  Holten's  seat, 
he  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  with,  — 

"  Things  are  going  on  swimmingly  ;  but  I  remember 
the  promise  you  made  me  in  regard  to  Marion,  and  shall 
claim  its  fulfillment  in  this  case,  for  she  is  lovely  enough 
to  quicken  the  pulse  of  a  Stoic." 

"  What  promise  ?  "  said  Hoi  ten,  affecting  not  to  re- 
member. 

"  What  promise  !  just  as  if  you  had  forgotten  ;  but  I 
see  how  it  is  :  you  wish  to  keep  this  one  all  to  yourself." 

"  I  see  what  you  are  driving  at  now,  and  it  shall  be 
as  you  say  ;  but  I  shall  have  ample  revenge  first." 

"  Why,  man,  that  will  be  but  a  continuation  of  your 
revenge  ;  but  I  must  see  Mr.  Vale  again :  he  don't  seem 
just  willing  to  talk  freely  before  the  lady.  He  invited 
me  to  have  a  smoke  with  him,  and  I  refused ;  but  I  will 
make  an  excuse  to  look  after  my  baggage,  and  stop  on 
my  way  back.  And,  without  waiting  for  further  com- 
ment from  Holten,  he  hastened  to  find  Vale. 


RETRIBUTION.  145 

"  Now,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  "  inquired  that  gen- 
tleman, as  soon  as  Porter  was  seated. 

"  I  can  not  tell  you  all  it  means  now ;  for  it  would 
take  too  long,  and  would  excite  suspicion  in  the  mind  of 
the  villain  whose  plans  I  wish  to  defeat.  But  this  much 
I  will  say.  If  you  have  no  pistol,  get  one  ;  and,  when 
you  cross  the  ravine  five  miles  this  side  of  where  you 
stop  to-night,  keep  both  eyes  open,  and  shoot  the  first 
man  who  lays  hands  on  the  lady." 

"  But  I  have  no  pistol,  and  don't  know  where  I  can 
get  one,"  said  Mr.  Vale  in  astonishment.  "  And,  fur- 
ther, I  can  see  no  reason  why  any  one  should  wish  to 
disturb  my  niece." 

"  A  defeated  lover  will  sometimes  do  any  thing,"  re- 
plied Porter. 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  begin  to  see.  I  think  I  will  not  go  on 
till  to-morrow,  and  thus  avoid  the  danger.  I  "  — 

"  And  leave  him  to  carry  out  his  scheme  when  you 
are  not  warned  ?  " 

"  There  is  something  in  that,"  said  Mr.  Vale  thought- 
fully. 

"He  is  disguised,"  continued  Porter:  "otherwise 
Mrs.  Shepherd  would  know  him  immediately  ;  he  dare 
not  even  trust  his  voice  in  her  hearing." 

"  If  I  was  sure  that  there  would  be  no  danger  "  — 

"  No  danger  at  all,  Mr.  Vale  :  I  will  let  you  have  my 
pistol.  I  shall  not  need  it ;  and  we  can  thus  bring  the 
knave  to  justice." 

"  Why  ai*e  you  so  anxious  in  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Vale,  looking  Porter  full  in  the  eye. 

"  An  only  sister  went  to  the  grave  broken-hearted, 

sir ;  "  and,  pausing  a  moment  to  suppress  his  emotion,  he 
10 


146  ALICE    VALE. 

continued,  "He  does  not  know  who  I  am,  or  lie  would 
not  trust  me :  he  believes  me  to  be  another  person  en- 
tirely. If  you  have  occasion  to  address  me,  call  me 
Cooley ;  but  that  is  not  my  true  name. 

"  Promise  me,  sir,  that  you  will  go  on,  as  you  have 
intended,"  added  Porter,  after  waiting  for  something 
further  from  his  companion. 

"  Will  you  be  there  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vale. 

"  I  shall,  and  shall  seize  the  horses  by  the  bits ;  so 
don't  fire  that  way." 

Still  Mr.  Vale  hesitated. 

"  I  wait  your  answer,"  said  Porter  anxiously ;  "  for 
I  must  not  remain  here  longer." 

"  Danger  safely  passed,"  again  came  to  Mr.  Vale's 
mind ;  and  he  replied,  "  I  will  go  on." 

"  Thanks,  but  don't  alarm  the  lady,"  said  Porter,  as 
he  hastily  made  his  exit. 

He  found  Holten  looking  moody,  but  soon  put  •  him 
in  good  humor  again,  with,  — 

"  I  was  d — d  'fraid  that  they  would  not  go  on  till 
morning  ;  but  it's  all  right  now,  and  you  may  thank  me 
for  it." 

"  How  ? "  asked  Holten.  Porter  drew  upon  his 
imagination  for  a  fitting  reply,  and  to  keep  his  compan- 
ion entertained  as  the  cars  sped  onward  to  their  desti- 
nation. 

The  train  was  behind  time  ;  and  it  was  nearly  sun- 
down when  they  reached  the  station  where  Alice  and 
her  uncle  were  to  stop.  "  It  is  a  bright  moonlight 
night,  and  it  will  be  a  fine  ride  that  we  shall  have  across 
the  prairie,"  said  Mr.  Vale  to  Alice. 

"  Is  it  all  prairie,  uncle  ?  "  she  asked. 


RETRIBUTION.  147 

"  No  :  there  is  a  ravine,  through  which  runs  a  creek, 
and  a  patch  of  timber  some  five  miles  this  side  our 
journey's  end,"  was  the 'reply. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  late,"  said  Holten  to  Porter,  "  as  it 
will  be  all  the  better  for  us  ;  "  and,  making  a  hasty  meal 
while  two  fine  horses  were  being  saddled,  they  were 
soon  speeding  their  way  over  the  prairie  in  a  somewhat 
different  direction  from  that  which  Mr.  Vale  was  to 
take. 

He  took  things  more  leisurely;  and  it  was  at  least 
half  an  hour  after  Holten  and  Porter  left  before  he  was 
ready  to  start.  "  The  road  is  perfectly  plain,  I  hope," 
said  Alice  to  the  boy  who  had  been  sent  with  the  car- 
riage. 

"  Perfectly  so,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that,  Alice  ?  I  hope  you  are  not 
getting  timid,"  said  her  uncle,  smiling. 

"  No,  uncle  ;  but  there  is  danger  somewhere,  and  I 
did  not  know  but  it  might  be  on  the  prairie.  I  have 
been  told  that  people  get  lost  sometimes  on  account  of 
there  being  so  many  different  roads." 

"  Nonsense  about  your  danger :  you  are  getting  to  be 
a  coward,  that  is  all." 

"  You  will  see,  uncle." 

"  Danger  to-night,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir,"  she  replied. 

"  If  your  prediction  proves  true,  we  shall  count  Alice 
among  the  prophets,"  said  Mr.  Vale,  laughing  to  hide 
the  surprise  he  felt. 

"  As  you  please,  uncle  ;  "  and  for  a  time  they  rode 
on  in  silence.  Indeed,  each  seemed  to  be  busy  with 
their  own  tho  :ghts,  and  little  inclined  for  co:  iversation ; 


148  ALICE   VALE. 

but,  as  they  neared  the  ravine,  Alice  turnec  to  Mr. 
V  ale,  and  said,  — 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  asleep  now,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not :  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  you  say  I  was  dreaming  last  night,  when 
I  tell  you  that  I  saw  Pete." 

"  Alice,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  a 
startled  tone. 

"  I  mean  that  he  is  here  now,  and  John  is  with  him," 
she  answered  as  quietly  as  though  it  was  an  every-day 
occurrence. 

"  Will  wonders  never  cease  ?  "  was  his  inward  com- 
ment;  and  to  her,  "  Do  they  say  any  thing,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Pete  says,  '  Fear  not : '  John  only  smiles." 

They  were  now  fairly  in  the  ravine.  Mr.  Vale  had 
taken  Porter's  pistol  from  his  pocket,  and  was  holding 
it  firmly  in  his  hand ;  for,  in  spite  of  his  pretended  disbe- 
lief, the  words  of  Alice  gave  him  courage. 

"  They  crossed  the  stream,  and  were  about  to  ascend 
upon  the  other  side,  when  two  horsemen  dashed  into 
the  road  ahead  of  them.  One  of  them  grasped  the 
horses  by  the  bits,  and  the  other  made  for  the  side  of 
the  carriage  where  Alice  sat ;  but,  just  as  he  gathered 
his  arm  about  her,  a  ball  penetrated  his  shoulder. 

Holten  —  for  it  was  him  of  course  —  had  not  antici- 
pated such  a  reception ;  for  he  supposed  that  Mr.  Vale 
was  not  armed.  The  shock  was  so  sudden  that  he  lost 
his  balance;  and,  at  the  same  moment,  Vale's  driver 
struck  his  horse  with  the  whip-handle,  causing  the  ani- 
mal to  dash  aside,  and  thus  complete  his  rider's  fall. 
He  tried  to  hold  on  to  the  brid'e  ;  but  the  frightened 
beast  reared,  wheeled,  and  then  started  forward,  throwing 


RETRIBUTION.  149 

him  so  violently  against  a  tree  as  to  kn  >ck  him  sense- 
less, tearing  his  foot  from  the  stirrup,  an  1  breaking  his 
leg  at  the  same  time. 

Porter  now  loosed  his  hold  of  the  bits ;  and  the  driver 
was  about  to  lash  his  horses  into  a  run,  when  Mr.  Vale's 
voice  arrested  the  movement. 

"  The  danger  is  over ;  the  other  is  a  friend,"  said  he  : 
"  let  us  stop,  and  look  after  this  one." 

Alice  had  not  spoken  till  now,  neither  had  she  mani- 
fested the  least  fear  ;  but,  as  Porter  and  her  uncle  dis- 
mounted to  look  after  the  fallen  man,  she  calmly  re- 
marked, "  William  Holten,  I  thought  your  turn  would 
come  some  time." 

Her  uncle  looked  up  inquiringly.  "  Pete  told  me," 
she  said ;  and  he  questioned  no  further, 

Holten  was  alive,  but  badly  injured ;  and,  as  they  found 
it  impossible  to  take  him  with  them,  they  were  con- 
sulting as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done,  when  another 
team  came  in  sight.  This  proved  to  be  a  farmer,  with 
a  good  farm-wagon,  in  which  there  were  two  or  three 
bundles  of  straw. 

Into  this  they  lifted  Holten,  Porter  staying  behind 
to  help  care  for  him,  while  Mr.  Vale  rode  Porter's  horse, 
and  Alice  went  on  with  the  driver,  a  lad  of  fifteen,  and 
brother  to  Mrs.  Vale. 

Mr.  Vale  and  his  party  reached  their  destination  an 
hour  before  the  wounded  man  was  brought  thither  ;  for 
the  latter  had  partially  revived,  and  the  motion  of  the 
wagon  gave  him  so  much  pain  that  they  could  move 
but  slowly. 

By  the  time  they  reached  Mr.  Shelton's,  Holten  was 
so  far  conscious  as  to  recognize  the  place.  "  In  the 


150  ALICE   VALE. 

name  of  God,  where  are  you  taking  me,  Cooley  ?  "  Lie 
asked. 

"  My  name  is  not  Cooley.  I  have  deceived  you  ;  and, 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  Silas  Porter,  you  will  know 
why,"  was  the  reply  that  greeted  his  ears. 

A  deep  groan  was  the  only  response  to  this  an- 
nouncement. The  doctor  arrived  presently,  for  he  had 
been  sent  for  as  soon  as  Mr.  Vale  reached  his  father-in- 
law's  house ;  and,  upon  examination,  pronounced  it 
impossible  for  the  wounded  man  to  live  more  than  two  or 
three  days.  For,  besides  the  shoulder  and  broken  limb, 
there  were  internal  injuries  that  could  not  be  reached. 

When  Alice  learned  this,  she  went  to  his  bedside, 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  him,  and  stood  some  moments  with- 
out speaking.  At  last  she  said,  "  William  Holten,  the 
dead  are  beyond  your  reach ;  but  there  is  still  time  to 
do  justice  to  the  living." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Shepherd  ?  "  he  asked, 
turning  toward  her  a  face  where  pain  and  fear  were 
striving  for  the  mastery. 

"  The  doctor  says  that  you  can  not  live,  and  there  is 
one  languishing  in  prison  whom  you  can  set  free  :  that 
is  what  I  mean,"  was  her  reply. 

"  Mrs.  Shepherd,  you  do  not  suppose  that  I  know 
aught  of  that  theft  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  of  a  murder  too." 

He  turned  his  face  away,  and  lay  quiet,  as  far  as  his 
sufferings  would  permit,  for  perhaps  ten  minutes.  At 
length  he  asked,  — 

"  Doctor,  how  long  can  I  live  ?  " 

"  You  are  pretty  sure  of  twenty-four  hours,  and  have 
one  chance  out  of  three  of  lasting  two  or  three  days 
longer,"  was  the  response. 


RETRIBUTION.  151 

"  Very  exact  in  your  calculations,  sir,"  said  Holten, 
with  something  of  his  old  spirit. 

"  I  suppose  that  was  what  you  wanted,"  replied  the 
doctor. 

Another  silence. 

"  If  you  have  any  business  matters  to  arrange,  had 
you  not  better  attend  to  it  immediately?"  asked  Mr. 
Vale  ;  and,  for  reply,  Holten  called  for  a  justice  of  the 
peace. 

"  Would  you  not  like  to  see  a  minister  too  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Shelton. 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,"  was  the  reply.  "  There  is  some- 
thing else  to  be  done  first :  where  is  Porter?  " 

"  Here,"  was  the  response,  as  Porter  stepped  around 
where  the  dying  man  could  see  him. 

"  Silas  Porter,"  said  he,  "  you  have  deceived  and 
betrayed  me  ;  but  I  can  not  blame  you,  for  I  murdered 
your  only  sister.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  poisoned  or 
stabbed  her  ;  but  I  deliberately  planned  her  ruin,  — 
won  her  heart  for  that  purpose :  failed,  it  is  true ;  but 
she  loved  me,  and  the  knowledge  of  my  perfidy  sent 
her  to  the  grave.  It  seems  like  mockery  to  ask  your 
forgiveness  ;  but  how  can  I  die  without  it  ?  " 

"If  my  forgiveness  were  all  that  was  needed  to 
secure  you  a  place  where  her  pure  spirit  dwells,  you 
would  never  get  it,"  was  Porter's  stern  reply. 

"  Forgive  as  you  would  be  forgiven,"  said  Mr.  Shel- 
ton solemnly. 

"  Work  out  your  own  salvation,"  responded  Porter. 
"  This  last  is  Scripture  as  much  as  the  other,  and  far 
more  in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  justice." 

"  Mercy  is  God's  favorite  attribute,"  continued  Mr. 
Shelton. 


152  ALICE   VALE. 

"And  justice  is  mine,"  replied  Porter :  "  accord  to  us 
justice,  and  we  shall  need  less  mercy." 

"It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God,"  persisted  Mr.  Shelton,  with  a  sigh  at  what 
seemed  to  him  the  young  man's  perverseness. 

"  And  I  should  say  that  it  was  more  fearful  to  fall 
out  of  them.  Mr.  Shelton,  you,  no  doubt,  think  me  a 
wicked  wretch ;  but  I  want  no  heaven  that  I  do  not 
earn." 

Mr.  Shelton  held  up  both  hands  in  horror.  "  And 
you  would  count  the  blood  of  the  covenant  an  unholy 
thing  !  Young  man,  if  such  are  your  sentiments,  this 
is  no  place  for  you,  by  the  bedside  of  the  dying.  Talk 
about  forgiving  him :  you  are  the  more  wicked  of  the 
two." 

"  More  wicked  to  doubt  the  prevailing  theology  than 
to  rob,  murder,  or  ravish  innocence  :  no  wonder  that 
the  world  is  sunk  in  wickedness  !  "  murmured  Porter 
to  himself,  as  he  passed  from  the  room. 

"  Infidelity  of  the  worst  form,"  groaned  Mr.  Shelton  : 
"  and  I  am  told  that  there  is  a  class  of  persons  who 
claim  to  hold  communion  with  the  departed;  and 
they  assert  that  the  spirits  of  our  friends  and  neighbors, 
even  those  who  were  good  Christians  here,  come  back 
and  teach  the  same  doctrine.  '  Anathema  maran- 
atha  ;  anathema  maran-atha.' ' 

"  *  Let  him  be  accursed.'  Is  that  what  you  say  of 
the  young  man  who  has  just  left  the  room  ?  "  asked 
Alice. 

"  Why  not,  if  he  teaches  the  doctrine  of  devils  ?  " 

"  If,  by  that,  you  refer  to  those  who  come  back  to  us 
from  the  other  side  of  the  grave,  they  are  not  all  devils, 


RETRIBUTION.  153 

Mr.  Shelton.     Peter  Stiverton  is  no  devil,  and  I  know 
John  Shepherd  is  not;  and  I  have  seen  them  both." 

"  Mr.  Shelton  looked  at  his  son-in-law,  and  the  latter 
touched  his  forehead  significantly." 

"  I  thought  so,  I  thought  so,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
to  himself. 

Holten  had  listened  to  the  conversation  with  a  good 
deal  of  interest ;  and  his  face  flushed  with  satisfaction 
when  Mr.  Shelton  pronounced  Porter  more  wicked  than 
himself. 

The  justice  had  now  arrived ;  and  steps  were  taken 
to  have  the  dying  man's  deposition  taken  as  soon  as 
possible. 

It  was  thought  that  Alice  was  having  too  much  ex- 
citement, and  had  better  leave  the  room :  but  she 
objected ;  and,  as  Holten  desired  her  to  stay,  she  was 
permitted  to  remain.  Holten  was  first  sworn,  and  then 
proceeded  to  give  the  details  of  the  plot  by  means  of 
which  John  Shepherd  and  his  friend  had  been  convicted 
and  sent  to  prison ;  ending  with  the  confession  that  he 
had  murdered  Shepherd  by  means  of  poison  dropped 
into  his  food,  after  it  was  dealt  out,  and  before  Shepherd 
had  taken  his  seat. 

He  then  told  of  his  determination  to  possess  Alice  at 
all  events ;  how  he  had  a  place  prepared  where  her 
friends  could  not  have  found  her,  &c.  "  And  I  should 
have  succeeded  but  for  Porter.  Still,  that  gentleman," 
pointing  to  Mr.  Shelton,  "  says  that  he  is  more  wicked 
than  I  am  ;  so  perhaps  there  may  be  hope  for  such 
as  me." 

Mr.  Shelton  flushed,  but  asked,  "  You  do  not  expect 
to  go  to  heaven  upon  your  own  merits,  Mr.  Holten?  " 

"  Certainly  not :  how  could  I  ?  ' 


154  ALICE   VALE. 

"  You  are  willing  to  accept  pardon  through  the  merits 
of  Christ  Jesus  ?  " 

"  I  am,  if  I  could  only  be  sure  that  he  would  accept 
me." 

"  Young  man,  there  is  hope  for  you.  He  says, 
4  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  Are  you  not  one  of  th-j 
heavy  laden  ?  " 

"  Laden  with  a  life-long  load  of  sin,"  replied  Holten 
with  a  sigh. 

"  But  you  are  sorry  for  it  ?  " 

"  Could  I  blot  it  out,  I  certainly  would." 

"  Go  to  Jesus,  young  man ;  cast  yourself  upon  his 
mercy  :  it  was  for  such  as  you  that  he  died,"  said  Mr. 
Shelton,  his  face  lighting  up  at  the  prospect  of  saving  a 
soul.  "  Examine  your  own  heart  well,  thougli  ;  for 
death-bed  repentance  is  apt  to  be  deceptive,"  he 
continued,  after  a  moment's  pause;  "but  we  will  leave 
you  now  to  the  care  of  those  who  are  to  watch  with 
you,  and  to  your  own  thoughts.  In  the  morning,  we 
will  send  for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stevens :  he  can  instruct 
you  in  the  right  way  better  than  I  can  ?  " 

Accordingly  Mr.  Stevens  was  sent  for.  He  read  and 
prayed  with  the  repentant  sinner,  as  he  called  Holten, 
and  left  him  with  high  hopes  that  he  would  be  as  a 
brand  plucked  from  the  burning. 

Mr.  Porter,  having  nothing  further  to  detain  him, 
went  his  way ;  but  more  than  one  comment  was  made 
upon  his  unforgiving  disposition,  and  more  than  one- 
shake  of  the  head  in  reference  to  his  infidelity. 

Holten  was  hurt  on  Wednesday  evening,  died  on 
Friday  about  the  same  hour,  and  was  buried  on  Sun 


RETRIBUTION.  155 

day.  Mr.  Stevens  attended  him  to  the  last;  preached 
his  funeral  sermon,  taking  the  words  of  Jesus  to  the 
thief  on  the  cross,  as  his  text ;  and  carrying  the  idea 
to  his  audience,  that  William  Hoi  ten  had  given  sufficient 
evidence  of  a  change  of  heart  to  warrant  the  belief  that 
he  was  then  with  Jesus  in  paradise. 

Mr.  Shelton,  when  he  reached  home  after  the  funeral 
services  were  over,  found  one  of  his  youngest  boys,  a 
lad  of  some  eight  summers,  very  busily  engaged  in  play. 

"  Fie,  fie,  my  son !  "  said  he,  "  What  do  you  suppose 
will  become  of  you  if  you  play  on  Sunday  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  love  to  play,"  said  the  little  fellow ;  "  but  I 
will  get  very  sorry  for  it  just  before  I  die,  and  then  it 
will  all  be  right." 

The  father  was  too  much  surprised  to  reply ;  while 
Alice,  like  Mary  of  old,  pondered  all  these  things  in 
her  heart. 

Mr.  Vale,  having  tarried 'at  his  father-in-law's  longer 
than  he  intended,  started  early  the  following  morning 
for  his  own  home.  A.lice  was  quietly  cheerful ;  for  the 
loved  ones  from  the  shores  of  life  immortal  had  made 
their  presence  known  to  her,  thus  pouring  comfort  into 
her  despairing  soul.  But  her  uncle  looked  upon  her 
with  ^ar  more  anxiety  than  when  sunk  in  gloom ;  for 
surely  none  but  the  insane  talked  as  she  did. 


156 


ALICE   VALE. 


CHAPTER    XH. 


MORE     THEOLOGY. 


ILAS  PORTER'S  business  led  him  to 
the  town  in  which  Mr.  Vale  resided  ;  and 
he,  of  course,  received  an  invitation  to 
call  there  as  often  as  was  convenient  while 
he  remained  in  the  place,  —  an  invitation 
that  he  was  not  slow  to  accept :  for,  in  all  his  travels, 
he  had  never  met  a  lady  who  interested  him  as  Alice 
did. 

Mrs.  Vale,  Mr.  Shelton's  daughter,  was  a  church- 
member  of  the  Methodist  persuasion,  and  very  zealous 
in  her  profession  ;  while  her  husband  belonged  to  that 
numerous  class  who  do  not  claim  to  be  Christians,  but 
feel  that  they  ought  to  be.  Such,  standing  self-con- 
demned before  their  own  souls,  are  ever  earnest  in  de- 
fending the  doctrines  of  the  church,  fully  intending, 
some  day,  to  make  preaching  and  practice  correspond. 

Mr.  Vale,  as  I  have  said,  belonged  to  this  class ;  and, 
having  heard  the  remarks  made  by  Porter  at  Holten's 
bedside,-  their  conversation  very  naturally  turned  in  that 
direction. 

"  What  did  you  mean,  Mr.  Porter,  by  saying  that  you 

wanted  no  heaven  but  what  you  earned  ?  "  he  asked, 

upon  the  second  evening  of  Porter's  calling  at  his  house. 

Mrs.  Vale  looked  up  with  surprise,  not  unmingled 


MORE  THEOLOGY.  157 

with  horror,  depicted  upon  her  countenance,  "  Why, 
Mr.  Porter,  you  did  not  say  that  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  did,  madam  ;  and  I  meant  it  too." 

"  But  why  ?  What  are  your  reasons  for  so  strange  an 
assertion  ?  "  said  her  husband. 

"  Because  I  believe  it  to  be  a  law  of  God,  founded  in 
the  very  nature  of  things.  Another  can  not  eat  for  us, 
can  not  drink  for  us ;  and,  if  we  remain  inactive  while 
another  works  for  us,  that  other  becomes  healthy  and 
strong,  enjoys  both  food  and  sleep  ;  while  we,  on  the 
contrary,  shrivel  up,  grow  weak  in  body  and  in  mind. 

"  Another  may  possess  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of 
life,  and  try  to  impart  that  knowledge  to  us  ;  but  if  we 
fail  to  learn,  fail  to  act  thereon,  we  can  not  enjoy  the 
benefits  "  — 

"  That  is  just  what  we  teach,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Vale  : 
"  we  must  come  to  Christ,  or  we  can  not  enjoy  the  bene- 
fits of  his  salvation." 

"  You  believe,  if  I  understand  you  rightly,"  said 
Porter,  "  that  God,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus,  in  virtue  of 
his  sufferings  and  death,  will  forgive  us  our  sins  if  we 
ask  him." 

"  Most  assuredly  I  do  :  it  is  my  only  hope." 

Mr.  Porter  turned  to  Mr.  Vale  :  "  I  understand,  sir, 
that  you  are  superintendent  of  the  public  schools  in 
this  place  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  he  replied. 

"  Did  you  ever  have  any  one  come  and  ask  you  for  a 
certificate  that  they  were  qualified  to  teach  because  their 
brother  had  a  splendid  education,  and  had  studied  enough 
for  both  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  this  is  trifling,  Mr.  Porter." 


158  ALICE    VALE. 

"  I  can  not  see  it  so,  sir  ;  and,  for  mj  part,  I  was  never 
more  in  earnest  in  my  life.  Study  is  a  weariness  to  the 
flesh  ;  and,  if  we  could  have  the  benefits  of  an  edu:  ation 
simply  by  confessing  that  we  were  lazy  wretches  de- 
pending upon  another  to  do  the  labor  for  us,  I  think  there 
would  be  but  few  who  would  do  much  studying." 

"  But  the  cases  are  not  parallel  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  I  think  they  are,  madam :  could  you  enjoy  food 
without  the  sense  of  taste  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  And  you  must  have  that  taste  yourself,  and  not 
another  for  you  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  If  you  inhale  the  miasma  of  fever,  can  another  be 
sick  for  you,  and  you  escape  the  suffering  because  that 
other  has  not  inhaled  the  poison,  but  still  has  been 
sick  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Porter,  that  I  can  not  see  the  analogy 
at  all,"  replied  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  I  can,"  said  Alice.  "  Mr.  Porter  means  to  say  that 
heaven  is  not  something  that  can  be  wrapped  around  us 
like  a  garment,  but  that  it  must  be  wrought  out  through 
the  forces  of  our  own  being,  even  as  the  leaves,  buds, 
blossoms,  and  fruit  of  a  tree  are  produced,  wrought  out 
through  the  innate  forces  of  the  tree." 

"  You  have  the  right  idea,  Mrs.  Shepherd ;  for  how 
much  good  would  it  do  a  barren  tree  to  have  the  credit 
of  another's  fruitfulness  imputed  to  it  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  I  am  thinking,"  replied  Alice  laughing. 
"  And  yet  Christians  talk  of  imputed  righteousness,  of 
Christ  our  righteousness,  of  his  obeying  in  our  stead, 
&c.,  &c.  Now,  I  must  confess  that  I  can  see  no  possi- 


MOKE   THEOLOGY.  159 

bility  for  such  a  thing  to  be  time.  It  is  contrary  to  ths 
laws  of  nature  ;  and,  if  God  violates  his  own  law,  why 
punish  us  for  doing  the  same  ?  " 

Porter  waited  a  moment  for  a  reply,  but  none  came. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vale  seemed  as  much  surprised  to  meet 
an  independent  thinker,  one  who  dared  to  question  what 
others  accepted,  as  they  would  have  been  had  a  thunder- 
clap burst  upon  them  from  a  cloudless  sky. 
.  "  And  then  look  at  the  influence  of  such  a  theory," 
he  continued :  "  William  Holteii  acknowledged  himself 
a  seducer,  a  perjurer,  and  a  murderer  ;  he  pursued  his 
wicked  course  up  to  within  a  few  hours  of  his  death, 
stopping  then  only  because  he  was  forced  to  do  so. 
Nothing  left  for  him  in  this  world ;  and  is  it  any  wonder 
that  he  should  seize  hold  of  any  thing  that  afforded  the 
least  pretext  for  hope  in  the  next. 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  he  did  not :  and  yet  this  is 
called  conversion  ;  and  the  idea  is  held  out  that  this  man 
has  gone  to  heaven,  to  a  state  of  perfect  happiness. 
What,  I  ask,  is  the  influence  of  such  an  idea  upon  the 
minds  of  the  young  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Alice.  "  Johnnie  Shelton  was 
at  play  when  we  went  home  from  the  funeral ;  and,  when 
his  father  reproved  him  for  breaking  the  sabbath,  he 
said,  — 

'"I  love  to  play,  father  ;  but  I  will  get  very  sorry  for 
it  before  I  die,  and  then  it  will  all  be  right.' ': 

"  Precisely  that,"  said  Porter ;  "  and  how  can  it  be 
otherwise  when  belief  is  put  before  acts  ;  when  a  man 
who  has  violated  every  law,  human  and  divine,  but  who 
claims  to  believe  in  Jesus,  —  when  such  a  one  is  called 
better  than  one  who  has  tried  to  live  according  t )  the 


1GO  ALICE   VALE. 

dictates  of  right,  but  who  does  not  believe  as  the  church 
and  the  minister  say  is  necessary?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  that  this  is  so,"  said  Mrs.  Vale.  "  I 
am  sure  that  for  my  part  I  should  prefer  the  latter  to 
the  former  for  a  neighbor." 

"  Individuals  often  hold  in  theory  that  which  they 
can  not  put  into  practice ;  but  I  have  often  heard  it  as- 
serted, botli  by  minister  and  people,  that  a  strictly  moral 
man,  who  trusted  in  his  morality,  was  the  very  worst 
man  in  the  community ;  and  your  father,  Mrs.  Vale, 
when  expressing  my  opinion  in  the  presence  of  Holten, 
told  me  that  I  was  the  more  wicked  of  the  two.  Poor 
encouragement  that  to  live  right,  if  such  as  he  is  ac- 
counted the  best  simply  because  of  belief." 

"  But  what  can  one  do  when  situated  like  Holten  ? 
There  is  nothing  left  to  them  but  to  believe  ;  and  shall 
we  deny  them  even  the  comfort  of  that  ?  shall  we  tell 
them  that  there  is  no  hope  ?  " 

"  No:  I  would  not  do  that,  Mrs.  Vale.  I  would  tell 
them  that  God's  laws  were  the  same  in  all  worlds  ;  that 
there  was  the  same  chance  for  improvement  there  as 
here ;  and  that  only  as  one  suffered  the  consequences 
of  sin,  thus  learning  the  evil  thereof,  could  he  truly 
hate  and  forsake  it,  and  by  a  higher  and  better  life  earn 
the  rewards  of  such  a  life." 

"  Strange  sentiments  these,  Mr.  Porter :  may  I  ask 
you  where  you  got  hold  of  such  ideas  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Vale. 

"  I  feel  in  my  soul  that  God  is  just,  and  that  he  is 
also  love ;  and  I  can  reconcile  his  love  and  justice  in  no 
other  way  than  by  giving  justice  her  full  demands,  —  not 
fo~  the  purpose  of  vengeance,  but  that  we  may  be  per- 


MOKE  THEOLOGY.  161 

fected  thereby,  —  may  be  brought  into  a  condJticn  that 
will  admit  of  the  blessings  of  his  love." 

"  But  justice  demands  the  condemnation  of  the  sin- 
ner,' '  said  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  Yes,  but  not  his  eternal  condemnation,"  replied 
Porter :  "  only  to  the  utmost  farthing ;  and  how  can  a 
finite  being  contract  an  infinite  debt?  " 

"  Does  not  man  sin  against  an  Infinite  Being,  Mr. 
Porter?" 

"  No:  he  sins  against  himself;  and  help  must  come 
from  within,  not  from  without." 

"  How  do  you  show  that  ?  "  asked  Alice. 

"  From  the  book  of  nature :  if  I  burn  my  hand,  the 
recupurating  power  is  in  the  body,  not  outside  of  it.  If 
I  break  my  limb,  it  is  the  same  :  in  both  instances  I  have 
violated  the  law  of  my  physical  being,  and  must  suffer 
the  consequences,  and  suffer  them  for  myself  too  :  but  I 
do  not  suffer  as  long  with  a  slight  burn  as  with  a  broken 
limb  ;  and  I  believe  that  it  is  the  same  with  the  moral  as 
with  the  physical,  with  the  soul  as.  with  the  body.  It 
seems  to  me  just  as  impossible  to  escape  the  conse- 
quences of  a  broken  moral  law  as  of  a  broken  physical 
law,  —  as  of  a  broken  liznb." 

"  No  forgiveness  of  sin  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  No  forgiveness  of  sin,"  replied  Porter. 

u  God  help  us,  then  !  "  she  ejaculated. 

"  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves,  dear  lady  ; 
and,  '  Work  out  your  own  salvation  ;  for  it  is  God  that 
worketh  in  you,  both  to  will  and  to  do,'  is  a  favorite 
text  of  mine,  —  the  God  within,  no'  the  God  withottf  ; 
God  all  and  in  all  blessed  for  evermore." 

Mr.  Vale  and  his  wife  seemed  astonished  to  hear  such 
11 


1G2  ALICE   VALE. 

tones  of  reverence  from  one  who  was  such  an  infidel, 
as  they  counted  infidelity  ;  but  Alice  seemed  like  one  en- 
dowed with  new  life,  as  she  listened  to  the  reasoning  of 
the  earnest-hearted  young  man. 

"  God's  ways  are  wonderful,"  she  said  ;  "  and,  un- 
less we  recognize  him  as  all  and  in  all,  as  directing  all 
things  in  wisdom,  we  are  lost  in  the  labyrinth  of  an 
uncertainty  that  too  often  leads  to  the  gulf  of  despair." 

"  Do  you  think  deception  is  ever  justifiable,  even  for 
the  sake  of  self-defense  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Vale,  as  if  to 
change  the  subject. 

Porter  flushed.  "  Do  you  mean  to  ask  me  if  I  think 
1  did  right  in  deceiving  Holten,  and  thereby  preventing 
the  consummation  of  his  plans,  Mrs.  Vale?" 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  be  personal,"  she  replied,  "  for 
this  may  be  among  the  theories  that  we  are  too  weak  to 
put  into  practice  ;  but,  taking  the  strict  sense  of  the  com- 
mand, '  Thou  shalt  not  lie,'  is  it  right  in  any  case  to 
practice  deception  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  partial  to  either  gnats  or  camels,"  said 
Porter  impatiently ;  while  Alice  added,  — 

"  It  was  certainly  a  good  thing  for  me,  Mr.  Porter, 
that  you  took  the  course  you  did  :  otherwise  I  tremble  to 
think  what  might  have  been  my  fate." 

"  And  the  consciousness  of  having  been  of  use  to  you, 
Mrs.  Shepherd,  is  reward  enough  to  compensate  for  a 
great  deal  of  suffering,"  he  replied  in  a  tone  that  brought 
the  blood  to  Alice's  cheek. 

"  I  have  thought  of  it  so  often  since,"  she  continued : 
"  how  strange  it  was  that  retribution  for  the  wrongs  of 
one  should  prove  such  a  blessing  to  another !  " 

"  The  law  of  compensation,  Mrs.  Shepherd,  —  com- 


MORE  THEOLOGY.  163 

pensation  to  her  and  me  too ;  for  I  have  no  doubt  that 
my  darling  sister  rejoices  with  me  in  your  safety." 

"  I  know  now,"  said  Mr.  Vale,  "  where  you  got  your 
ideas,  Porter.  You  are  more  than  half  Spiritualist." 

"  Altogether  one,  Mr.  Vale ;  that  is,  so  far  as  I  un- 
derstand their  views." 

"  And  do  you  really  believe  that  the  dead  can  come 
back,  Mr.  Porter  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir ;  and  I  further  believe  that  my  sister  assisted 
me  in  penetrating  Holten's  disguise." 

"  Nonsense  :  we  shall  have  to  send  you  and  Alice 
both  to  the  insane  asylum." 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  not  object  to  my  company  if  we 
can  go  together,"  replied  Porter  smiling. 

"  By  the  way,  we  have  a  medium  (I  believe  that  is 
what  you  call  them)  here  ;  and  her  house  is  thronged, 
so  people  say.  Suppose  we  all  go  to  see  her  some  time." 

"  O  husband !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vale,  "  you  certainly 
will  not  go  there  ?  " 

"  Why  not,  wife  ?  how  can  we  prove  a  thing  unless 
we  investigate  it?  and  we  are  commanded  to  prove  all 
things." 

"  But  we  must  not  put  ourselves  in  the  power  of  the 
Devil  if  we  want  God's  protection." 

"  If  it  is  the  Devil's  work,  so  much  the  more  need 
that  good  people  should  investigate  and  expose  it ;  and, 
if  God  will  not  protect  his  children  in  exposing  that 
which  is  evil,  how  can  we  trust  him  in  any  thing  ?  I, 
for  one,  am  going  to  find  out  for  myself:  who  will  go 
with  me  ?  " 

"I  will,"  said  Alice.  "And  I,  too,"  said  Porter: 
then,  turning  to  Mrs.  Vale,  he  added,  — 


164  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Come,  madam,  I  think  you  had  bettei  go :  per- 
haps we  three  can  keep  the  Devil  from  catching  you ; 
and,  if  we  leave  you  here  all  alone,  he  might  possibly 
slip  around  and  get  the  advantage  of  you." 

Mrs.  Vale  laughed  in  spite  of  herself,  and  finally  con- 
cluded that  she  would  go  if  the  rest  did.  And  so  it 
was  decided  that  they  should  attend  a  circle. 


THE  CIRCLE. 


165 


CHAPTER  Xin. 


THE   CIKCLE. 

R.  PORTER  thought  it  best  to  carry  out 
the  suggestion  of  attending  a  circle  before 
objections  could  be  brought  forward  by 
interested  parties  to  prevent  it:  so  he 
called  upon  the  medium  the  next  day,  and 
obtained  permission  to  be  present  at  their  next  meeting, 
which  was  on  the  following  evening. 

Mrs.  Vale  demurred  somewhat  when  the  hour  came, 
but  finally  went  with  the  others.  And  here  we  are 
again,  gentle  reader,  in  the  circle-room.  Things  look 
somewhat  familiar ;  for  it  is  in  the  same  room,  the  same 
medium,  and  nearly  the  same  company,  that  we  met  be- 
fore. The  honest-hearted  gentleman,  whose  barns  were 
burned,  is  not  present ;  neither  is  the  young  man  who 
recognized  Bob  Perigrene  :  but  the  gentleman  who  gave 
a  false' name  has  returned,  and  waits  the  fulfillment  of 
the  promise  then  made  him.  The  members  of  the  circle 
are  the  saiqe,  and  only  our  company  are  new  to  the 
place. 

Mrs.  Vale  watches  things  with  a  sort  of  fearful  in- 
terest, —  interested  in  spite  of  her  determination  not  to 
be,  and  fearful  lest  she  should  see  a  cloven  foot  some- 
where. 

The  members  of  the  circle  took  their  places,  our  party 


166  ALICE   VALE. 

and  the  gentleman  before  spoken  of  remaining  upon  the 
outside.  The  words  commencing,  — 

"  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  Heavenly  Dove," — 

were  sung ;  the  leader  of  the  circle  remarking  that  we 
needed,  not  only  one,  but  many,  holy  spirits  to  watch 
over  us,  and  then  giving  a  short  invocation,  the  burden 
of  which  was,  that,  while  both  needing  and  desiring  the 
protection  of  good  spirits,  he  implored  a  sufficiency  of 
the  sweet  charity  that  would  receive  and  try  to  benefit 
all  who  came.  A  few  moments'  silence,  and  the  medium 
was  controlled. 

Again  that  fair  young  form  took  on  the  semblance  of 
a  little  weazen-faced  old  man  ;  again  the  movements  of 
shoe-making  were  gone  through  with ;  while  the  meta- 
morphosed form  nodded,  smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  How  do  you  do,  good  friends  ?  Hard  at  work,  as 
you  see  ;  •  but  honesty  and  industry  are  indispensable  to 
success,  —  indispensable,  good  friends,  or  I  had  never 
gone  from  the  shoemaker's  bench  to  a  place  in  the  coun- 
cils of  my  country." 

"  Here  is  Bob  Perigrene  again,  pretending  to  be 
Roger  Sherman,"  remarked  one  of  the  circle. 

"My  name  is  Robert,  not  Bob;  and  I  would  thank 
you,  sir,  to  call  me  Mr.  Perigrene." 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Perigrene :  I  acknowledge  my 
fault ;  for  all  should  be  treated  with  respect,  especially 
if  we  wish  to  benefit  them." 

"  Benefit  them !  Do  you  intend  that  as  an  insinua- 
tion, sir  ?  " 

"  An  insinuation  ?  " 


THE  CIRCLE.  1G7 

"  Yes :  it  looks  as  though  you  thought  I  needed  bene- 
fiting." 

"Well,  don't  you?" 

"  No :  I  am  well  enough  off." 

"  The  best  of  us  can  be  made  better,  Mr.  Perigrene." 

"  True,  true  :  I  don't  think  much  of  those  saints  who 
imagine  that  they  are  so  much  better  than  other  people." 

"  Who  is  it  that  thinks  so  ?  " 

"  It  looks  as  if  you  did  when  you  talk  of  benefiting 
me,  Mr.  Mentor." 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Perigrene,  not  at  all ;  for  I  presume 
you  could  benefit  me,  and  I  am  certain  that  you  could 
benefit  yourself." 

"  Just  tell  me  how,  will  you,  Mr.  Consequence  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  giving  me  my  right  name  in  either  case, 
sir ;  but  I  will  answer  your  question.  You  can  benefit 
yourself  very  much  by  learning  to  be  truthful." 

"  An  insult,  an  insult,  Mr.  Impudence  !  If  I  only  had 
my  old  body,  I  would  thrash  you  for  that.  Truthful, 
indeed  !  Pray,  when  have  I  been  otherwise  ?  " 

"  You  have  come  to  this  circle  twice  now,  and  pre- 
tended, either  directly  or  indirectly,  to  be  Roger  Sher- 
man ;  which  vou  know  is  false." 

"  Well,  it's  in  me  ;  and  I  think  I  have  as  good  a  right 
to  tell  a  lie  as  my  neighbor  there,"  said  he,  pointing  to 
the  stranger  with  a  false  name. 

"  Come,  husband,  let  us  go  home,"  said  Mrs.  Vale, 
at  this  point.  "  They  are  lying  spirits,  by  their  own 
confession  ;  and  I  don't  think  it  right  to  encourage  them 
by  our  presence." 

"If  you  go,  you  will  have  to  go  alone,"  was  the  re- 
ply ;  "  for  I  am  going  to  see  the  play  out,  now  I  am 
here." 


168  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Look,"  said  Porter :  "  the  influence  is  changing : 
we  shall  have  something  different  now." 

"  Something  better,  I  hope,"  was  Mrs.  Vale's  impa- 
tient response  ;  and  then,  as  her  eye  turned  in  that 
direction,  "  Look  at  Alice,  will  you?  " 

"  Alice,  what  is  it  ?  your  face  is  radiant." 

"  Wait,  uncle,"  was  her  only  response. 

Presently  the  medium  turned  slowly  toward  her,  ex- 
tended a  hand,  and  said,  "  Miss  Alice,  is  it  not  as  I  told 
you?" 

"  Yes,  Peter,  it  is,"  she  replied. 

"  Call  me  Pete,  please  :  it  makes  me  feel  more  as  if 
we  were  back  in  that  little  village,  or  rambling  in  the 
woods,  or  by  the  streams  around  it." 

"  Yes,  Pete :  those  were  happy  days  ;  but  dark,  dark 
ones  have  been  mine  since  then." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  of  the  cloud,  Miss  Alice  ?  I  saw 
that  it  must  come,  and  it  has,  —  a  cloud  so  dense,  that  no 
light  but  that  from  our  side  of  the  river  could  penetrate 
it." 

"  True  ;  and  thank  God  with  me  that  such  a  light  was 
permitted  to  shine  upon  me.  And  the  other  part  of  your 
prophecy  was  true,  too,  Pete  ;  for  I  have  seen  you,  and 
now  I  hear  your  voice  once  more.  You  said  that  I 
should  see  and  hear." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  can  not  hold  those  blessings  for  your- 
self alone,  Miss  Alice.  You  have  a  work  to  do,  —  one 
which  will  bring  a  storm  about  your  ears." 

"  A  storm  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Before  it  was  a  cloud ;  now  it  will  be  a  storm." 

"  Well,  let  it  come :  it  can  not  put  out  the  lamp  I  carry 
now.  Is  your  mother  with  you,  Pete  ?  " 


THE  CIRCLE.  169 

"  She  is,  and  she  tells  me  that  my  father  is  here  pres- 
ent to-night." 

"  Your  father !  "  exclaimed  the  stranger  gentleman. 

"  Yes,  sir :   she  tells  me  that  you  are  my  father." 

"  'Tis  false  !  "  he  vociferated,  springing  to  his  feet ; 
"  all  false.  I  thought  it  was  from  the  Devil ;  and  I  know 
it  is  now,  for  I  never  had  a  son." 

The  influence  changed  almost  instantaneously ;  and 
a  voice  of  peculiar  sweetness  said,  "  Philip,  have  you 
forgotten  your  Vermont  trip,  and  the  poor  girl  whom 
you  trapped  into  a  false  marriage  ?  " 

The  irate  man  sank  back  into  his  seat,  with  pallid 
cheek  and  quaking  limbs.  "  Who  speaks  ?  whose  voice 
is  that  ?  "  he  asked,  in  tones  which  showed  that  he  was 
touched  to  the  soul. 

"  It  is  I,  —  Marion  Sloan  ;  and  he  who  has  just  spoken 
is  your  own  son.  You  have  given  a  false  name  here,  and 
you  gave  me  a  false  name  then  ;  that  is,  the  last  name : 
your  true  one  is  Maldren,  — Philip  Maldren." 

"  This  is  psychology,  —  mind-reading :  there  are  no 
spirits  in  the  case ;  and  those  who  claim  that  there  are, 
are  humbugs,"  said  Mr.  Maldren,  who,  having  recov- 
ered his  self-possession,  seemed  determined  to  contend 
to  the  end. 

"  Have  we  not  given  you  your  true  name  ?  " 

"  You  have  ;  but  you  read  it  from  my  mind." 

"  Did  you  not  tell  us,  when  here  before,  that  you 
would  believe  if  we  could  tell  you  what  your  name 
was?" 

"  True  ;  but  I  did  not  think  then  of  the  time  you 
would  have  to  trace  it  out.  It  has  been  months  since,  — 
long  enougli  to  learn  my  whole  history :  had  you  told 
me  then,  it  would  have  been  different  " 


170  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Did  you  leave  any  clew,  by  means  of  which  we  could 
do  this  ?  " 

"  No  :  I  took  good  care  of  that ;  but  I  tell  you  that 
you  took  it  from  my  mind." 

"  You  were  wont  to  take  good  care,  Philip.  You 
have  been  accustomed  all  your  life  to  covering  your 
tracks;  but  there  are  eyes  that  can  penetrate  all  dis- 
guises. I  was  not  the  first  one  that  you  deceived  and 
betrayed :  you  have  another  son  here." 

"  Indeed  !  you  will  make  me  a  man  of  family  pretty 
soon.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  the  name  of  this  other 
victim  ?  " 

'*  I  can  :  it  was  Maria  Holten  ;  and  she  called  her  son 
William." 

Here  Vale  and  his  wife  gave  each  other  glances  of 
astonishment;  while  the  controlling  spirit  continued, 
"  Did  I  take  that  from  your  mind,  Philip?  " 

"  No  ;  for  I  had  forgotten  it." 

"  You  acknowledge  its  truth  then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  as  that  follows." 

"  How  could  you  forget  that  which  you  never  knew  ?  " 

"  Well,  well,  have  your  own  way  about  it,"  said  Mal- 
dren ;  for  his  bold  bearing  was  fast  giving  way  to  the 
pallidness  of  guilt  and  fear :  "  but  where  is  she  now, 
—  this  Maria  of  whom  you  speak  ?  " 

"  Where  she  never  would  have  been  but  for  you, 

Philip,  —  the  keeper  of  an  assignation  in Street, 

New  York.  You  start ;  and  well  you  may,  for  you  were 
there  the  last  time  you  were  in  the  city.  You  did  not 
recognize  her  ;  but  she  knew  you,  and  would  have  mur- 
dered you  but  for  my  influence.  You  rememler  the 
circumstances :  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  enter  into 
details." 


THE  CIRCLE.  171 

"  O  mj  God  !  '*  groaned  the  unhappy  man  :  "  it  is  all 
too  true ;  but  I  never  thought  to  meet  these  things  till 
the  judgment-day." 

"  No  uncommon  mistake,  Philip :  there  were  those 
in  the  days  of  Jesus  who  thought  they  were  tormented 
before  their  time." 

"  O  Marion  !  "  said  he,  "  and  did  you  indeed  watch 
over  me  for  good  ?  " 

"  I  did,  Philip,  and  have  for  years  done  all  that  I 
could  to  restrain  you  from  evil,  and  lead  you  to  the 
right." 

The  attention  of  the  company  had  been  so  taken  up, 
that  they  did  not  notice  the  change  coming  over  Alice  ; 
consequently  were  somewhat  startled  to  hear  a  heavy 
bass  voice  say,  — 

"  For  years  I  have  striven  to  get  possession  of  this 
body  ;  received  my  death-wound  in  my  last  earthly  at- 
tempt, but  I  have  succeeded  at  last.  Yes :  I  have  suc- 
ceeded ;  but  oh,  under  what  different  circumstances  from 
what  I  anticipated  or  desired !  "  Then  turning  to  Mal- 
dren,  he  —  for  you  have  already  recognized  William 
Holten  —  continued,  "  The  lady  may  watch  over  you 
for  good ;  but  I  wiU  "  —  the  medium's  hand  was  quickly 
placed  upon  Alice's  lips  ;  and  she  who  had  called  herself 
Marion  Sloan  said,  — 

"  No,  no,  William :  you  must  not  curse  him ;  for,  in  so 
doing,  you  will  only  injure  yourself." 

"  And  what  if  I  do,  lady  ?  I  can  not  be  much  worse 
off  than  I  am." 

"  But  you  can  be  better  off  if  you  desire  it." 

"  How,  pray  ?  " 

"  By  returning  good  for  evil ;  by  striving  to  benefit 
others,  even  those  who  have  wronged  you  the  most." 


172  ALICE  VALE. 

"  Do  you  imagine,  lady,  that  wrongs  such  as  he  has 
committed  can  ever  be  forgiven  ?  Only  think  what  my 
life  has  been,  and  all  through  him." 

"  I  was  not  talking  of  forgiveness  in  any  such  sense 
as  to  do  away  with  the  consequences  of  his  acts.  It  is 
because  he  must  suffer  these  consequences,  —  because 
he  can  not  escape  them,  —  that  I  ask  for  him  your  pity 
and  kind  feeh'ng.  I  also  ask  it  for  your  own  sake,  be- 
cause it  will  be  better  for  you,"  was  the  reply. 

Maldren  looked  and  listened  with  an  expression  of 
the  keenest  anguish  upon  his  countenance.  And  was 
this  indeed  the  Marion  that  he  had  so  deeply  wronged  ? 
Had  she  really  come  from  the  land  of  the  blessed  to 
plead  for  him  ?  Such  were  the  thoughts  of  this  wretched 
man ;  while  William  Holten,  still  controlling  the  form 
of  Alice,  laughed  in  derision  at  the  gentle  counselings 
of  the  pure  spirit  who  sought  to  lead  him  upward. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  he  exclaimed  :  "  wouldn't  I  look  well 
now,  in  trying  to  benefit  the  man  who  ruined  my  mother, 
and  left  me  a  waif  upon  the  world's  mercy  ?  " 

"  And  have  not  you  wronged  others  ?  "  asked  the 
spirit. 

"  It  is  his  fault  if  I  have,"  was  the  reply. 

"  In  one  sense  it  was,  William ;  and  in  another  sense 
it  was  your  own  fault.  There  was  a  cause  for  his  doing 
as  he  did,  as  well  as  for  your  doing  as  you  did." 

"  I  don't  care  if  there  was :  I'll  have  my  revenge, 
and  upon  you  too,"  turning  to  Porter.  "  You  deceived 
and  betrayed  me,  and  I'll  make  you  suffer  for  it  yet." 

Mrs.  Vale  had  watched  Alice  during  the  above  col- 
loquy, with  a  half-frightened,  half-horrified  look,  till, 
unable  to  contain  her  feelings  longer,  she  begged  her 
husband  to  take  her  home. 


THE  CIRCLE.  173 

"  It  is  the  Devil :  I  am  sure  it  is  the  Dev.l,"  she  said  ; 
"and  he  takes  this  course  to  make  us  believe  that  the 
blood  of  Christ  is  not  sufficient  for  us.  William  Holten 
died  trusting  in  Jesus ;  and  I  am  certain  he  would  not 
be  here  talking  in  this  way." 

"  It's  the  Devil,  is  it  ?  You  want  to  go  home,  do 
you?"  said  the  one  claiming  to  be  William,  turning 
fiercely  toward  her  ;  while  the  influence  controlling  the 
regular  medium  changed  very  quickly,  and  a  voice  full 
of  solemn  warning  said,  — 

"  Madam,  you  are  right :  these  influences  come  from 
the  Devil  and  his  angels.  I,  Paul,  the  servant  of  Jesus 
Christ,  am  mercifully  permitted  to  tell  you  this,  to  the 
end  that  you  may  be  without  excuse  if  you  have  further 
to  do  with  this  wickedness." 

The  spirit  controlling  Alice  looked  up  as  if  surprised, 
and  then,  giving  expression  to  a  hearty  laugh,  left ; 
while  Alice,  with  a  bewildered  air,  said,  — 

"  Strange  that  I  should  go  to  sleep." 

"  Not  asleep,  but  under  the  influence  of  an  evil  spirit, 
madam,"  said  the  one  claiming  to  be  Paul ;  and  then, 
turning  to  the  company,  he  continued,  *'  You  see,  be- 
loved, how  soon  these  vile  spirits  fly  when  one  of  God's 
commissioned  ones  appears." 

Mrs.  Vale  now  insisted  upon  going,  and  her  husband 
went  with  her,  Alice  refused  to  leave,  however,  till 
the  circle  closed  ;  and  Porter  remained  also.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Vale  had  no  sooner  left  the  room  than  the  digni- 
fied, devout  Paul  changed  his  base  entirely.  The  face 
of  the  medium  broadened  and  shortened  considerably, 
while  the  eyes  twinkled  with  mischief,  or,  rather,  the 
muscles  around  the  eyes,  for  the  latter  were  closed. 


174  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Well,  wasn't  that  well  done  ?  "  was  uttered  in  tones 
of  triumph. 

"  Wasn't  what  well  done  ?  "  asked  Porter. 

"  Making  that  woman  believe  it  was  the  Devil.  Ha, 
ha!" 

"  And  why  did  you  do  that  ?  "  continued  Porter. 

"  Why,  the  poor  woman  was  hunting  for  a  devil,  and 
I  thought  I  would  help  her  to  find  one.  Doesn't  the 
Book  say  that  we  must  help  such  as  want  help,  and  be 
kind  ?  " 

"  It  says  something  to  that  effect ;  but  you  are  per- 
verting its  meaning,  and  wronging  others  at  the  same 
time." 

"  How  ?  " 

"  It  will  make  trouble  for  this  lady,  who  is  staying 
with  them,  as  it  will  only  intensify  their  opposition." 

"  I  can't  help  that :  I  answered  her  according  to  her 
folly.  What  I  said  came  through  the  same  channel  as 
did  the  good  advice  to  William  Hoi  ten ;  and  if  she 
chooses  to  think  that  my  lies  were  from  God,  and 
Marion  Sloan's  truth  from  the  Devil,  why,  let  her  have 
her  own  choice.  People  generally  get  what  they  are 
looking  for :  she  was  looking  for  a  devil,  and  she  got 
some  d lish  lies." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  Porter :  "  that's  rather  rough." 

"  Well,  I  was  a  rough,  jolly  sort  of  a  fellow  when  I 
was  here,  and  I  haven't  got  polished  yet ;  shall,  though, 
in  good  time,  —  that  is,  if  I  don't  meet  too  many  like 
her ;  but,  when  I  see  such  folly,  it  arouses  all  my  old 
spirit  of  mischief,  and  I  do  love  to  play  off  upon  them." 

"  Will  you  not  tell  us  who  you  really  are  ?  "  asked 
Alice. 


THE  CIRCLE.  175 

"  One  who  will  never  harm  you,  lady  :  as  to  my 
name,  it  can  make  no  difference  if  you  do  not  know  it ; 
but  you  may  call  me  Jack,  for  sho.t,  and  so  good- 
night." 

As  there  was  no  further  manifestation,  the  circle  was 
closed ;  and  each,  as  they  went  to  their  homes,  pondered 
in  their  hearts  as  to  what  these  things  meant. 


176  ALICE  VALE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CONSULTATION. 

I  PON  leaving  the  circle,  M  .  and  Mrs. 
Vale  walked  on  a  while  in  silence.  It 
was  at  length  broken  by  Mr.  Vale's  say- 
ing, "  This  will  never  do,  wife." 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  scrry :  I  wish 
we  had  not  gone,"  she  replied. 

"  But  I  am  not  sorry :  I  am  glad  we  went,"  said  he ; 
*'  for  it  will  help  us  to  avoid  what  might  otherwise  have 
occurred." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Vale  ?  "  asked  the  lady  in 
accents  of  surprise. 

"  Why,  in  reference  to  Alice.  Don't  you  see  that  she 
is  a  medium  too ;  and,  in  her  present  state  of  mind,  she 
can  be  easily  influenced  to  do  what  she  otherwise  would 
not  ?  Porter  is  really  a  believer  in  these  things ;  is  en- 
thusiastic in  what  he  undertakes ;  and  he,  together  with 
the  medium,  will  try  to  make  Alice  think  that  she  must 
devote  herself  to  the  cause." 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  of  that !  I  would  not  have 
her  do  it  for  the  world  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  Neither  would  I,"  he  replied ;  "  for,  in  the  rebound 
of  her  mind  from  the  extreme  of  grief  in  which  she  has 
been  plunged,  she  would  be  sure  to  go  to  the  opposite 
extreme,  and  perhaps  become  really  insane." 


CONSULTATION.  177 

"  I  hardly  think  there  would  be  any  danger  of  that ; 
but  only  think  of  the  disgrace  of  having  a  relative  of 
ours,  a  member  of  our  family,  take  such  a  course.  To 
be  insane  on  another  subject  would  not  be  so  bad  as  be- 
ing sane  on  this  ;  for  the  first  would  be  looked  upon  as  a 
misfortune  only,  but  the  latter  is  infamous." 

"  Well,  wife,  we  see  the  danger  now,  as  we  should 
not  have  done  had  we  not  visited  the  circle  to-night ; 
and  we  must  take  steps  to  prevent  such  a  catastrophe. 
I  love  Alice  as  if  she  were  my  own  sister ;  and  it  shall 
be  no  fault  of  mine  if  she  is  not  saved  from  this  new 
danger." 

"  But  how  ?     What  course  shall  we  take  ?  " 

"  I  can  not  tell  as  yet ;  but  something  must  be  done, 
and  one  thing  is  certain :  we  must  not  seem  to  oppcse 
her,  not  strongly  at  least,  or  she  will  call  it  the  storm 
that  Pete  spoke  of,  and  it  will  only  make  her  the  more 
determined.  Your  father  will  be  here  in  the  course  of 
the  week,  and  we  will  consult  him  as  to  the  course  to  be 
taken." 

"  I  was  surprised  at  you,  James,  when  you  consented 
to  go  to  such  a  place ;  but  now  I  see  that  there  was  a 
purpose  in  it.  The  Bible  says  that  '  The  hearts  of  the 
children  of  men  are  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord ;  and  he 
turneth  them  like  rivers  of  water,  whithersoever  he 
will ; '  and  I  think  it  has  been  so  in  this  case.  O  James ! 
I  wish  you  were  indeed  a  Christian." 

"  And  so  I  shall  be,  little  wife,  when  the  Lord  turns 
my  heart  in  that  direction,"  he  replif  d,  half  in  jest,  and 
half  in  earnest. 

"  0  husband !  now  you  are  making  ftm  of  the 
12 


178  ALICE   VALE. 

Bible,"  she  said,  with  an  earnestness  that  brought  tears 
to  her  own  eyes,  if  not  to  his. 

"  Indeed  I  am  not,  wife  ;  but  I  must  confess  that  I  can 
not  quite  understand  the  theories  that  you  church  peo- 
ple advocate,  —  some  of  them  at  least." 

"  Not  theories,  Mr.  Vale ;  not  theories,  but  truths." 

"  Well,  truths,  then,  but  truths  that  are  only  theo- 
retical with  a  large  proportion  of  those  who  profess  to 
understand  and  accept  them  ;  for  I  see  but  very  little  of 
the  practical  results." 

They  had  now  reached  their  own  door ;  and  the  hon- 
est little  woman  made  110  further  reply,  but  only  offered 
up  a  silent  prayer  that  God  would  indeed  turn  the  heart 
of  her  husband  in  the  right  direction. 

When  the  nurse  had  been  summoned,  and  the  little 
one  duly  kissed  and  caressed,  Mrs.  Vale  said,  "  Shall  we 
sit  up  for  Alice  and  Porter  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,"  was  the  reply ;  "  for  Alice  feels 
that  she  owes  more  than  life  to  Porter.  It  will  not  do 
to  treat  him  rudely ;  but  we  must  give  them-  no  more 
opportunity  for  conversation  than  we  can  help,  and  get 
her  from  under  his  influence  as  soon  as  possible.  But 
here  they  come  :  now,  keep  cool,  wife  :  be  careful  what 
you  say,  and  how  you  say  it ;  for,  if  Alice  once  gets  an 
idea  that  we  are  working  to  break  up  this  thing,  we  can 
do  nothing  with  her." 

"  Not  gone  to  bed  yet  ?  "  said  Alice  as  they  came  in. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Vale,  "  but  were  just  talking  of 
it.  I  thought,  though,  that  we  would  wait  a  little,  and 
learn  what  further  manifestations  you  had." 

"  O  chameleon-hued  Curiosity !  "  said  Porter,  laugh- 
ing, "  verily,  thy  forms  are  legion  :  want  to  learn  what 


CONSULTATION.  179 

happened  after  you  left  ?  Don't  think  you  deserve  to 
know  after  running  off  as  you  did." 

"  You  must  blame  Mrs.  Vale  for  that :  I  would  have 
staid  had  she  been  willing." 

"  Eve  did  it,"  cried  Alice.  "  Now,  aunt,  I  would  not 
put  up  witu  ihat  if  I  were  you  ;  for  I  believe  that  that 
solemn-faced  admonition  frightened  him  as  badly  as  it 
did  you." 

"  Hush,  Alice  !  don't  speak  so  lightly  upon  so  solemn 
a  subject,"  said  Mrs.  Vale. 

Alice  looked  into  her  aunt's  face,  and,  catching  its 
awed  expression,  was  fairly  convulsed  with  laughter 
when  she  remembered  the  cause  of  it.  "  Excuse  me, 
aunt,"  said  she,  as  soon  as  she  could  speak ;  "  but,  could 
you  have  seen  the  ending  of  the  quondam  Paul's  solemn 
farce,  I  am  sure  that  you  would  feel  differently  from 
what  you  do." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  thus,  Alice  ?  What  evidence 
have  you  that  it  was  not  Paul  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Vale  in  a 
tone  which,  showed  that  she  had  the  same  human  nature 
as  others,  even  if,  according  to  her  idea,  she  had  been 
born  again. 

"  Just  like  the  rest  of  us,"  said  Porter  :  "  don't  want 
that  proved  false  which  we  desire  to  be  true ;  but  come 
now,  Mrs.  Vale,  let  us  lay  aside  prejudice,  and  decide 
in  accordance  with  the  evidence." 

"  I  shall  not  stop  to  argue  with  you,  Mr.  Porter  :  the 
Bible  forbids  us  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  familiar 
spirits,  and  that  is  enough  for  me." 

"  Why,  then,  was  Paul  sent  to  you,  Mrs.  Vale  ?  " 
asked  he,  with  a  merry  twinkle  of  the  eye. 

"  I  see  that  you  do  not  believe  it  was  Paul,"  sre  re- 


180  ALICE   VALE. 

plied  ;  "  but  what  was  claimed  to  have  com:  from  Wil- 
liam Holten,  that  was  all  right,  of  course." 

"  Mrs.  Vale,  you  mistake  me  entirely,"  said  Porter. 
"  In  the  first  place,  the  fact  that  a  spirit  claims  to  be  or 
not  to  be  a  certain  person  does  not  prove  that  it  is  so, 
—  that  they  tell  the  truth.  Still,  if  there  is  no  opposing 
evidence,  we  accept  their  testimony,  unless  there  is  that 
in  the  very  nature  of  the  case  which  is  calculated  to  do 
vis  an  injury.  If  a  spirit  tells  me  to  be  good  and  true, 
to  live  a  pure  and  progressive  life,  I  accept  his  teach- 
ings, no  matter  who  it  is  from.  It  is  what,  not  who. 
On  the  contrary,  if  one  who  claims  to  be  Paul,  Peter, 
Isaiah,  or  any  one  else,  tells  me  to  do  that  which  I  feel 
to  be  wrong,  I  should  reject  the  teaching,  no  matter  if 
it  was  proven  to  have  come  from  the  person  claimed." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  doing  evil  that  good  may 
come." 

"  Neither  do  I,  madam." 

"  Why,  then,  have  any  thing  to  do  with  these  things  ? 
What  do  they  add  to  what  we  already  know  ?  and,  if 
violating  a  plain  command  under  pretense  that  good 
may  come  is  not  doing  evil,  I  don't  know  what  is,"  said 
Mrs.  Vale  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  she  thought  her 
position  impregnable. 

"Why  have  any  thing  to  do  with  these  things  ?  be- 
cause they  come  to  us  as  a  manifestation  of  God's  prov- 
idence, demanding  our  attention.  In  the  burning-bush 
of  life's  intensity  they  find  their  place,  and  we  hear 
God's  voice  therein ;  and,  as  to  adding  to  what  we  al- 
ready know,  they  are  among  the  cloud  of  witnesses 
who  demonstrate  eternal  life,  are  of  the  innumerable 
company  of  angels  that  Paul  speaks  of,  are  of  the  just 


CONSULTATION.  181 

made  perfect,  and  also  of  the  spirits  in  prison  that  the 
Christ  of  love  is  ever  ready  to  receive  and  benefit." 

"  But  what  do  you  do  with  God's  command  ?  "  per- 
sisted Mrs.  Vale. 

"  What  command?  "  asked  Porter. 

"  The  one  given  through  Moses." 

"  To  whom  was  it  given  ?  " 

"  To  the  children  of  Israel,  of  course." 

"  Moses  did,  so  we  are  told,  give  such  a  command  to 
those  under  his  control.  But  we  have  no  proof,  except 
his  word,  that  God  told  him  to  give  it ;  and,  further,  we 
are  not  Israelites." 

"  God  gives  his  commands  to  one  age  for  all  time, 
and  to  one  people  for  all  people  ;  and  you  have  shown 
yourself  an  infidel  by  your  own  admission.  You  do 
not  believe  the  Bible,  Mr.  Porter?" 

"  If  God's  commands  to  one  people  are  for  all  people, 
why  do  you  eat  pork,  Mrs.  Vale  ?  The  command  that 
the  Jews  should  not  eat  pork  is  just  as  emphatic  as  in 
the  other  case." 

"  Come,  come,  wife,  this  is  all  nonsense :  you  and 
Mr.  Porter  might  talk  all  night,  and  you  wouldn't 
agree." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Vale,  for  reminding  me  of  the 
hour,"  said  Porter ;  "  for  I  must  leave  early  in  the 
morning,  and  shall  need  some  sleep." 

"How  long  will  you  be  absent?"  asked  Vale,  in  a 
tone  so  interested  that  Alice  noticed  it,  and  understood 
it  afterward ;  but  it  puzzled  her  at  the  time. 

"  About  a  month,  I  think ;  but  I  hope  to  find  you  all 
here,  and  all  well  and  happy,  when  I  return ;  so  good- 
night." 


182  ALICE   VALE. 

Alice  retired  immediately  ;  for  the  experience  of  the 
evening  had  placed  her  in  a  frame  of  mind  that  required 
solitude,  —  solitude  and  reflection,  for  her  soul  was  too 
deeply  stirred  for  sleep. 

"  That  takes  one  difficulty  out  of  our  path,"  said 
Vale  to  his  wife,  as  soon  as  Alice  had  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Vale  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  Porter's  going  away,"  he  continued.  "  We  could 
hardly  do  any  thing  toward  removing  Alice  while  he 
was  here  ;  for  he  would  be  certain  to  find  some  means 
of  preventing  it." 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  going,"  said  Mrs  Vale  ;  "  for  he  is 
really  a  very  dangerous  man.  Why  is  it,  husband,  that 
those  who  hold  such  ruinous  sentiments  are  generally 
so  correct  in  their  lives  as  far  as  acts  are  concerned  ?  " 

"  Because  they  trust  in  works,  of  course  :  I  should 
not  think  that  you  would  need  to  ask  that,  wife." 

"  True,  time,  —  works,  self-righteousness." 

"  And  then  there  is  the  stealing  of  the  livery  of  the 
court  of  heaven  to  serve  the  Devil  in." 

"  Yes  ;  but  why  should  trusting  in  works  lead  to  a 
more  correct  life  than  trusting  in  Jesus  ?  "  said  she,  with 
a  puzzled  expression  upon  her  face. 

Mr.  Vale  regarded  her  for  a  moment  with  a  half- 

O 

serious,  half-amused  look.  "  Look  out,  little  wife,"  said 
he,  "  or  you  will  ask  one  question  too  many,  and  thus 
find  yourself  doubting  before  you  know  it." 

She  colored,  sighed,  and  said  no  more ;  but  she  could 
not  stop  thinking. 

"  A  storm  ?  "  said  Alice  to  herself,  after  she  had  re- 
tired, "  a  storm  ?  I  wonder  what  kind  of  one." 

A  voice  from  the  unseen  seemed  to  reply,  "Not  so 


CONSUL  TA  TION.  18S 

properly  a  storm  as  a  prison  where  the  sun  is  reflected 
from  ice,  —  a  something  that  will  inclose  you  for  a  sea- 
son, but  will  give  you  110  warmth." 

"  And  can  you  not  save  me  from  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Were  it  best,  we  could,"  was  the  response. 

For  a  moment  her  soul  shrank  from  the  coming  or- 
deal ;  but  when  she  remembered  that  the  angel  side  of 
her  life  could  not  be  inclosed,  that  light  and  warmth 
from  the  summer  land  would  still  be  hers,  she  grew 
strong  again  to  do  and  to  bear,  and,  laying  her  head 
upon  her  pillow,  slept  as  sweetly  as  an  infant  on  its 
mother's  breast. 

The  next  morning,  at  the  breakfast-table,  the  conver- 
sation naturally  turned  upon  what  had  occurred  the 
previous  evening ;  and  Mrs.  Vale  said  to  Alice,  "  Your 
uncle  thinks  that  you  will  turn  medium  yet." 

"  And  why  not?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Why  not !  and  would  you  really  do  such  a  thing, 
Alice  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  blessed  mission,"  she  replied. 

"  I  would  rather  see  you  dead,"  said  Mrs.  Vale,  for- 
getting, in  her  excitement,  the  caution  her  husband  had 
given  her  the  night  before. 

"  There,  there,  wife,  don't  run  to  meet  trouble : 
Alice  has  been  separated  from  her  uncle  too  many  years 
to  want  to  leave  him  in  a  hurry,"  said  Mr.  Vale,  giving 
his  wife  a  meaning  look. 

Alice  laughed.  "  You  flatter  yourself,  uncle,"  said 
she. 

"  I  think  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  only  feel  tha:  you 
would  be  as  unwilling  to  give  ine  up  as  I  would  you. 
Why,  puss,  we  haven't  half  lived  over  our  childhood's 
days  yet." 


184  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Don't  you  two  be  saying  too  many  sweet  thii  .53,  or 
I  shall  be  jealous,"  said  Mrs.  Vale  merrily. 

"  Please  don't  be  so  cruel,  and  I  will  be  good,  aunt," 
said  Alice,  with  a  pretty  pout  upon  her  lip.  "  I  couldn't 
bear  that,  indeed,  I  could  not ;  but  I  can't  see  as  I  am 
to  blame  after  all,  for  it  was  not  me  that  said  the  sweet 
things." 

O 

"  Adam  did  it  instead  of  Eve  :  eh,  Alice  ?  "  retorted 
Mr.  Vale. 

Little  Alice  came  in  at  this  moment  for  her  share  of 
attention,  and  there  was  nothing  further  said  upon  the 
subject. 

The  next  day,  Alice  visited  the  medium  again ;  and, 
while  she  was  absent,  Mr.  Shelton  came.  His  daughter 
hastened  to  consult  him  in  reference  to  the  subject  that 
was  troubling  her. 

"  It  will  never  do  to  let  this  go  on,"  said  he,  after  lis- 
tening to  her  story :  "  something  must  be  done,  and 
that  is  certain." 

"  Yes :  but  what  ?  it  will  be  worse  than  useless  to 
talk  to  her." 

"  Of  course  :  insane  people  never  listen  to  reason." 

"  And  do  you  really  think  her  insane,  father  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  though  not  so  as  to  be  noticed,  except 
by  a  close  observer.  Perhaps  monomania  would  be  the 
most  proper  term :  all  right  except  upon  some  particular 
subjects.  But  an  asylum  is  the  best  place  for  her :  in- 
deed, it  is  the  only  thing  that  will  save  her." 

"  O  father  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  I  know  it  seems  hard,  my  child ;  but  the  end  justi- 
fies the  means.  It  can  be  done  very  quietly,  —  so  quiet- 
ly that  the  public  will  be  none  the  wiser." 


CONSUL  TA  TION.  185 

"  But  where  can  we  take  her,  father  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  friend  who  is  a  physician,  and  a  man  of 
deep  piety,  who  has  had  some  experience  in  these  mat- 
ters. He  had  a  lovely  daughter  who  came  under  the 
influence  of  these  modern  witches ;  and  he  was  obliged 
to  shut  her  up  to  ke'ep  her  from  them.  She  proved  in- 
curable, and  died  in  about  six  months.  This  almost 
broke  his  heart ;  and,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  grief,  he  re- 
solved to  spend  his  life  in  trying  to  save  others  from  this 
terrible  delusion  :  so  he  fitted  up  his  house  and  grounds 
as  a  private  asylum." 

"  And  has  he  been  successful  hi  curing  those  placed 
under  his  charge  ?  " 

44  Not  as  much  so  as  he  could  wish  :  but  you  see,  my 
child,  that  it  prevents  the  poison  from  spreading ;  and  it 
saves  the  families  with  whom  the  unfortunate  ones  are 
connected  from  the  disgrace  of  their  going  before  the 
public,  as  they  are  sure  to  imagine  that  they  must." 

"I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Vale  thoughtfully;  "and  this  is 
where  you  would  advise  us  to  take  Alice  ?  " 

44  It  is,  and  the  very  best  place  I  can  think  of." 

"  Well,  I  will  talk  with  Mr.  Vale  about  it ;  but  it 
seems  hard." 

44  You  ought  to  have  learned  before  this,  my  daughter, 
that  it  is  often  hard  to  do  right :  duty  and  pleasure  do 
not  often  walk  the  same  paths  in  this  life." 

44  It  is  not  the  doing  of  the  right,  but  the  knowing  as 
to  what  is  right,  that  troubles  me,"  she  replied. 

44  Ask  God  to  help  you  :  you  do  not  pray  enough,  I 
fear." 

44 1  suppose  I  am  wicked,  father :  it  must  be  so,  though 
I  am  sure  I  don't  wish  to  do  wrong.  Still,  when  I  pray, 


186  ALICE   VALE. 

I  sometimes  find  it  so  dark  that  I  feel  as  if  I  can  never 
make  the  attempt  again." 

"  '  The  hosts  of  hell  are  pressing  hard 
To  draw  you  from  the  skies.' 

"  My  child,  I  fear  that  you  have  an  idol  somewhere, 
—  something  that  you  think  more  of  than  you  do  of 
your  God.  He  is  a  jealous  God,  and  will  permit  noth- 
ing of  the  kind :  be  careful  that  he  does  not  take  your 
husband  or  your  child  from  you." 

"  And  do  you  think,  Mr.  Shelton,  that  such  a  loss 
wcjuld  have  a  tendency  to  make  her  love  him  any 
better?  "  asked  Alice,  who  had  come  up  just  in  time  to 
hear  the  last  sentence  or  two. 

They  both  started,  and  looked  so  uneasily  toward  her, 
that  Alice  saw  they  had  been  talking  of  something  that 
they  did  not  wish  her  to  hear  ;  so  she  said,  — 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not  been  eaves-dropping.  I  came 
up  just  in  time  to  hear  Mr.  Shelton's  last  remarks  ;  and 
it  seemed  such  a  strange  way  for  God  to  take  to  make 
us  love  him,  that  I  could  not  well  avoid  speaking  as  I 
did." 

"  God's  ways  are  past  finding  out ;  and  we  are  pre- 
sumptious  to  question,"  said  Mr.  Shelton  solemnly. 

That  night,  after  Alice  had  retired,  the  subject  was 
well  canvassed  in  family  conclave,  and  it  was  fully  de- 
cided that  Alice  should  be  sent  to  Dr.  Denning's. 

"  You  will  have  to  be  very  cautious,"  said  Mr.  Shel- 
ton, "  or  she  will  mistrust  that  something  is  going  on,  and 
refuse  to  go:  these  insane  people  seem  sometimes  to 
read  one's  very  ".noughts." 


CONSUL  TA  TION.  187 

"  And  that,"  said  Mrs.  Vale,  "  is  what  makes  me 
believe  that  it  is  their  own  peculiar  sensitiveness,  and 
not  spirits,  that  makes  them  see  and  talk  .as  they  do. 
They  become  the  mirror,  as  it  were,  to  reflect  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  circle.  If  it  was  really  as 
they  pretend,  —  if  it  was  really  a  spirit  that  Alice  saw 
the  other  night,  then  it  could  warn  her  and  defeat  our 
plans  in  spite  of  our  efforts  to  the  contrary  " 

"  If  He  be  the  King  of  the  Jews,  let  him  save  him- 
self," said  Mr.  Vale. 

"  Why  do  you  quote  these  words  ?  "  asked  his  wife 
in  astonishment. 

"  Because  of  the  parallel  in  the  mode  of  reasoning," 
he  replied. 

"  James,"  said  Mr.  Shelton,  in  a  tone  of  severity,  "  I 
very  much  fear  that  your  spirit  of  reckless  trifling  will 
yet  place  you  beyond  the  pale  of  hope  and  mercy." 

"  But  I  can  not  see  the  parallel,"  said  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  Neither  is  it  best  that  you  should,"  said  her  father  : 
"  this  comparing  sacred  things  with  profane,  Jesus  with 
the  claims  of  Spiritualists,  is  simply  blasphemous." 

"  Are  not  the  rules  of  logic  and  reason  applicable  in 
one  case  as  well  as  in  the  other,  father  ?  "  said  Mr.  Vale, 
with  a  look  of  perplexity  upon  his  features. 

"  That,  James,  is  the  trouble  with  this  age,  —  too  • 
much  reason,  and  too  little  Bible.     As  though  God's 
works,  the  laws  of  matter  and  mind,  could  be  used  to 
set  aside  his  word." 

"•  I  stand  rebuked,"  said  Mr.  Vale,  "  but  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  can  not  see  for  what." 

"  God  help  you,  my  son,  to  find  the  true  light." 

"  Amen,"  was  the  response ;  "  but  when  shall  our 
plans  respect'ng  Alice  be  put  into  execution  ?  " 


ALICE  VALE, 

"  As  soon  as  possible  :  present  duty  should  neve  be 
neglected  ;  but  perhaps  you  had  better  not  move  in  the 
matter  till  after  I  am  gone.  She  seems  to  have  an 
instinctive  aversion  to  me,  and  might  object  to  going  if 
she  suspected  that  I  had  any  thing  to  do  with  it." 

*'  I  was  in  hopes  that  you  could  go  with  us,  father." 

"  No,  child :  it  will  not  be  best.  I  can  give  you  and 
James  the  necessary  directions,  and  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion ;  but  don't  let  her  know  but  what  you  are  old 
acquaintances." 

"  Then  I  must  senct  the  letter  of  introduction  through 
the  mail,  explaining  my  reasons  for  doing  so,  and  so 
describe  our  appearance  and  time  of  coming  that  he 
will  recognize  us  upon  sight ;  for,  if  Alice  should  dis- 
cover that  there  had  been  the  least  deception  practiced, 
we  should  have  trouble  with  her,  and  it  will  be  hard 
enough  to  leave  her  there  without  any  thing  of  that 
kind." 

"  Your  suggestion  is  a  good  one,  James.  Give  me 
pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  I  will  write  what  is  necessary 
now.  Nothing  like  doing  a  thing  promptly." 

About  a  week  after  this,  while  at  the  breakfast  table 
one  morning,  Mr.  Vale  said  to  Alice,  "  I  presume  that 
you  will  be  very  lonely  till  Porter  returns:  what  say 
you  to  a  trip  with  us  to  visit  some  friends  ?  " 

"  To  convince  you,  uncle,  that  I  am  not  so  de- 
pendent upon  Mr.  Porter  for  my  happiness,  as  you  may 
suppose,  I  move  that  I  keep  house,  and  let  you  and 
aunt  go  and  enjoy  yourselves  at  your  leisure." 

"  Worse  and  worse  :  leave  you  here  to  dream  of  him 
from  morning  till  night.  No,  no,  that  will  never  do : 
you  must  go  with  us,  or  we  stay." 


CONSUL  TA  TION.  189 

"  Nonsense,"  she  replied :  "  I  will  go  of  course, 
rather  than  keep  you  at  home.  I  only  said  that  to 
show  you  that  I  could  live  without  Mr.  Porter,  and  you, 
too,  if  necessary." 

"  Well,  Miss  Independence,  be  ready,  then,  early  to- 
morrow morning :  for  it  is  a  good  day's  drive,  further 
than  I  ought  to  go  in  one  day ;  and  we  can  not  possibly 
get  through  before  dark." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  where  you  were  going, 
uncle." 

"  To  Clinton,  or  near  there.  It  is  some  ten  miles 

from River,  and  our  road  lies  through  the  finest 

portion  of  the  State." 

"  A  relative  ?  "  said  Alice. 

"  Not  exactly,  or  at  least  so  distant  that  we  claim 
nothing  on  that  score.  I  believe  his  wife  is  a  little 
related  to  Mother  Shelton."  - 

The  next  morning  early,  they  were  on  their  way, 
but  did  not  reach  the  doctor's  establishment  till  very 
late  ;  consequently  Alice  saw  nothing  to  arouse  her  sus- 
picions. She  slept  late  the  next  morning ;  and,  when 
she  arose,  Uncle  James  and  his  wife  were  gone. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  portray  her  feelings,  for  I  have 
neither  the  power  nor  the  disposition  to  do  so :  but,  in 
the  weary  days  and  too  often  wakeful  nights  that  fol- 
lowed, there  was  compensation ;  for  she  had  sc  ill-food  of 
which  they  knew  nothing,  companionship  tha  their  eyes 
r  ere  too  dull  to  perceive. 


190  ALICE  VALE. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

AFTER     MANY     DAYS. 

"  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  after  many  days  thou  shalt  find 
it  again."  —  Bible. 

E  will  now  return  to  Ellsville,  and  in- 
quire after  our  old  friends,  the  Winches- 
ters. Have  they  forgotten  Alice  Vale 
and  the  kindness  that  she  showed  them 
years  before  ? 
Addie  could  never  forget,  whoever  else  might ;  and, 
from  the  time  that  John  Shepherd  had  been  condemned 
to  prison  till  now,  her  heart  had  gone  out  in  one  con- 
tinued longing  for  the  happiness  of  her  stricken  friend, 
in  continued  desire  that  in  some  way  she  might  be  able 
to  pay  a  portion  at  least  of  the  mighty  debt  of  gratitude 
that  swelled  her  soul. 

"  I  wonder  where  Alice  is  to-night,"  said  she  to  her 
husband  one  pleasant  evening,  as  they  sat  around  the 
family  board. 

"  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell :  somewhere  in  the  West 
though,  as  I  am  told  that  she  went  home  with  her 
father's  brother  a  few  months  since,"  was  Mr.  Win- 
chester's reply. 

"  From  whom  did  you  learn  that  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  had  a  letter  from  a  friend  of  Mr.  Dare's,  in  which 
this  fact  was  mentioned.    I  thought  I  had  told  you." 
"  This  is  the  first  that  I  have  heard  of  it,  Edward." 


AFTER  MANY  DA  78.  191 

"  Strange  that  I  should  have  forgotten  it ;  but  I 
know  now  why  I  did,  wife  :  it  was  on  the  morning  that 
I  went  to  the  city,  and  I  was  so  hurried  that  it  put  it 
entirely  out  of  my  mind." 

"  And  I  have  thought  so  strange  that  she  did  not 
write  to  me.  I  wish  I  could  hear  from  her  ;  for  I  believe 
she  is  in  trouble." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that,  Addie  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  why,  but  I  can  not  get  rid  of  the 
feeling ;  and  why  does  she  not  write  to  me  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  she  was  nearly  insane  after  John's 
death  ;  and  she  may  not  be  in  a  condition  to  write." 

"  True  ;  but  I  wish,  oh  !  I  wish  that  I  could  see  her." 

Winchester  regarded  his  wife  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  then  said,  "  You  are  growing  thin  and  pale,  Addie. 
I  think  a  journey  would  do  you  good :  what  say  you  tc 
a  trip  West  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,  if  you  could  go  with  me ; 
but  where  should  we  go  ?  " 

"  I  have  an  aunt,  a  sister  of  my  mother's,  living  near 

Clinton ;  and  we  might  go  there.  I  want  to  see  the 

country,  and  don't  know  but  I  can  leave  my  business 
now  as  well  as  any  time.  How  soon  can  we  be  ready  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  you  please,  Edward." 

"  Well,  then,  say  the  first  of  the  week.  To-day  is 
Thursday  :  I  can  be  ready  to  start  by  Monday."  And 
so  it  was  settled  that  Addie  Winchester  and  her  husband 
should  go  West. 

The  next  day,  when  Winchester  came  to  dinner,  he 
brought  Addie  a  letter  with  a  Western  post-mark. 
"Here  is  something  for  you,"  said  he,  as  he  threw  it 
into  her  lap  ;  "  and  it  looks  like  Alice's  handwriting." 


192  ALICE   VALE. 

"  It  is  hers,"  was  the  reply,  as  she  broke  it  open,  and 
glanced  at  the  signature.  "  O  Edward !  "  she  exclaimed, 
when  she  had  read  it,  "  William  Holten  is  dead.  He 
confessed  that  John  was  innocent,  and  that  he  poisoned 
him.  He  was  trying  to  carry  Alice  off  when  he  re- 
ceived his  death-wound  ;  and  what  else  do  you  think  ?  " 
she  asked,  with  a  merry  twinkle  of  the  eye. 

"  J  am  sure  I  can  not  tell :  she  is  not  married  again  ?  " 

"  Fie,  now  !  you  know  better  than  that,  Mr.  Winches- 
ter. No:  she  has  been  attending  circles,  and  believes  in 
spirits." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that ;  for  she  is  an  earnest  soul,  and 
what  she  believes  she  will  advocate  fearlessly.  Alice 
Shepherd  is  no  common  woman." 

"  So  I  am  glad ;  but  I  hardly  thought  you  would 
speak  out  so  boldly,  Edward." 

"  I  have  concluded,  wife,  that  it  does  not  pay  to  be  a 
coward ;  but  where  is  she  ?  " 

"  At ,  some  forty  miles  from ." 

"  That  is  not  more  than  a  day's  drive  from  Clinton. 
We  can  go  to  Uncle  Denning's  first:  then  I  will  take  you 
there,  and  you  can  visit  with  Alice  while  I  look  at  the 
country." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  Alice  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Addie,  and  will,  but  can  not  spend  as  much 
time  with  her  as  you  will  wish  to.  Does  she  speak  of 
any  particular  trouble  ?  " 

"No:  she  seems  very  happy,  but  says  that  Pete 
—  you  remember  Pete,  the  boy  that  lived  at  Stiver- 
ton's?" 

"  Yes :  he  died  when  Alice  wasn't  more  than  fifteen." 

"  Well,  he  and  Alice  were  great  friends.     She  says 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS.  193 

she  lias  seen  him,  and  that  he  tells  her  that  there  is 
trouble  ahead,  but  that  she  is  not  going  to  worry  about 
it,  as  there  will  be  time  enough  to  meet  it  when  it 
comes." 

"  A  wise  conclusion,  wife,  and  one  that  you  would 
do  well  to  heed." 

"  But  my  best  of  husbands  has  no  occasion  for  the 
use  of  such  a  maxim,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mrs.  W.,  with 
a  quizzical  glance  at  her  monitor. 

"  Too  much,  altogether  too>much,  need  for  it,  Addie," 
was  his  frank  reply ;  and  then  the  conversation  turned 
upon  other  subjects. 

Monday  came,  furnishing  two  passengers  for  the  stage 
that  ran  daily  to  the  nearest  railroad  station^  and,  the 
day  following,  Addie  and  Edward  Winchester  were 
whirling  along  at  railway  speed  toward  their  place  of 
destination,  one  of  the  broad  prairies  of  the,  to  them, 
Far  West.  Day  and  night  the  iron  horse  sped  on  his  tire- 
less way.  Thursday  noon  brings  them  to  the  terminus 
of  their  journey,  so  far  as  the  cars  are  concerned;  and 
the  stage  is  again  in  requisition.  Clinton  is  reached  an 
hour  after  dark,  and  here  they  remain  till  morning. 

"  Finishing  our  journey  on  Friday,  —  rather  an  un- 
lucky omen,  is  it  not  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Winchester. 

"  Nonsense,  Edward :  I  hope  you  do  not  believe  in 
such  whims  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  Addie :  still,  early  education  will  have 
its  influence,  and  my  mother  would  never  commence  a 
thing  on  Friday." 

"  Well,  we  didn't  start  on  Friday ;  and,  if  there  is  bad 
luck  to  any  one,  it  will  be  to  those  where  we  are  going. 
I  prophesy  that  we  shall  have  a  grand  time.  By  the  way, 

13 


194  ALICE    VALE. 

I  dreart  ed  of  Alice  all  night ;  and  she  looked  so  pleased, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  seemed  pleading  for  help. 
Strange,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  wife  I  who  believes  in  omens  now  ?  I  am 
sure  I  do  not  think  it  strange  that  you  should  dream  of 
Alice,  considering  the  circumstances :  rather  strange  if 
you  did  not,"  replied  Winchester. 

"  Did  you  dream  of  her  ?  "  asked  Addle. 

"  I  did  not :  but  you  women  are  so  susceptible  ;  and 
then  it  would  haixlly  do  for  me  to  be  dreaming  of  other 
women,  with  you  by  my  side.  I  might  talk  in  my  sleep, 
you  know,  and  then  you  would  be  jealous." 

Addie's  reply  to  this  sally  was  a  hearty  laugh  ;  for  the 
idea  that  she  could  have  such  a  feeling  toward  Alice 
was  simply  amusing.  The  conveyance  that  was  to  carry 
them  to  Dr.  Denning's  residence  was  now  at  the  door ; 
and,  taking  their  seats  therein,  they  were  soon  speeding 
their  way  toward  the  grove  that  was  their  point  of  des- 
tination. Twelve  o'clock  brought  them  to  the  doctor's 
grounds.  A  servant  opened  the  gate  that  gave  them 
entrance  ;  and,  sweeping  down  the  graveled  carriage-way, 
they  were  soon  in  front  of  the  almost  palatial  residence. 
Making  themselves  known,  they  were,  cordially  wel- 
comed ;  but  almost  the  first  question  that  the  doctor  asked 
was,  — 

"  Are  you  sick,  Mrs.  Winchester  ?  You  are  looking 
very  pale." 

"  Why,  Addie,  what  ails  you  ?  you  are  as  white  as  a 
ghost !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Winchester. 

"  Nothing  serious,"  said  she,  trying  to  smile.  "  Doc- 
tor, have  you  fricirls  stopping  with  you  ?" 

"  I  have  a  few  patients :  there  are  none  others  here, 
except  my  own  family.  But  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 


AFTER  MANY  DA  YS.  195 

"  I  thought  I  saw  a  familiar  face  at  an  upper  window, 
as  we  drove  up;  but  I  must  have  been  mistaken,"  was 
the  reply. 

Winchester  was  looking  directly  at  the  doctor  when 
Adclie  said  this,  and  noticed  his  startled  look,  succeeded 
immediately  by  a  bland  smile,  as  he  replied,  — 

'*  Resemblances  often  surprise  us  into  the  momentary 
belief,  madam,  that  we  have  previously  met  individuals 
whom  we  have  really  never  seen  before.  I  have  often 
wondered  at  the  goodness  of  God  in  not  permitting 
more  of  such  resemblances ;  for  they  would  be  the  source 
of  a  great  amount  of  annoyance,  to  say  the  least." 

Winchester  turned  again  to  his  wife,  and  saw,  from 
her  look,  that  there  was  something  more  on  her  mind 
than  her  words  indicated.  She  opened  her  lips  as  if  to 
speak,  closed  them  again,  cast  an  appealing  glance  at 
her  husband,  rose  partly  to  her  feet,  and  then  sunk  back 
into  her  seat. 

"  Adclie,  you  are  certainly  sick  !  " 

"  I  believe  I  will  lie  down  a  little,"  was  her  reply. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  doctor :  "  wife,  show 
Mrs.  Winchester  her  room ;  is  there  nothing  I  can  do 
for  you  first  ?  Will  you  not  have  something  to  take  ?  " 

"  Not  any  thing,  thank  you  :  I  only  need  a  little  rest." 

Mrs.  Denning  conducted  Addie  to  a  room  off  the 
parlor.  "  Now  lie  and  rest  as  long  as  you  please,  my 
dear :  there  will  be  nothing  to  disturb  you,"  said  she 
kindly,  as  she  was  about  closing  the  door. 

"  Will  you  please  send  my  husband  to  me  ?  I  wish  to 
see  him  a  moment,"  said  Addie. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  response. 

"  O  Edward  ! "    exclaimed  Addie,  as   soon  as  they 


196  ALICE   VALE. 

were  alone,  "  Alice  is  in  this  house,  for  I  have  seen  her. 
Just  the  same  glad,  pleading  look  that  I  saw  in  my  sleep. 
What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,  Addie :  it  can  not  be  possi- 
ble ; "  and  then,  as  he  recollecte4  the  doctor's  startled 
look,  he  said  to  himself,  "  There  is  something  strange 
here."  * 

"  I  am  not  mistaken,  Edward,"  said  she  earnestly : 
44  if  I  ever  saw  Alice,  I  saw  her  to-day ;  and  it  was  so 
exact  a  counterpart  of  my  dream,  that  I  nearly  fainted." 

The  doctor's  first  expression,  when  his  wife  returned, 
was,  "  Wife,  I  shall  have  to  dismiss  Miss  Wells,  as  valu- 
able as  her  services  are  to  me ;  for  she  will  never  learn 
to  obey  orders." 

Mrs.  Denning  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  She  has  been  permitting  some  of  the  patients  to  look 
from  the  front  windows  again,"  he  continued;  "and  I 
am  certain  that  Mrs.  Winchester  recognized  whoever  it 
was." 

44 1  believe,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Denning,  44  that  Miss 
Wells  is  in  sympathy  with  the  patients,  and  particularly 
with  the  last  one  who  came.  I  doubt  if  she  thinks  her 
insane  at  all." 

44  The'h  the  sooner  we  get  rid  of  her  the  better,"  said 
the  doctor. 

44  And  would  that  be  the  wisest  course  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Denning. 

44 1  do  not  know  what  else  we  can  do,"  he  replied. 
44 1  wish  I  had  never  gone  into  this  business :  it  is  a 

D 

source  of  constant  anxiety,  and  I  don't  see  as  things  are 
getting  any  better.  For  one  that  we  shut  up  to  prevent 
contagion,  hundreds  spring  up  in  every  corner  of  the 
land." 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS.  19 < 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  lady,  "  and  I  wish  that  we 
were  well  out  of  it.  But  self-preservation  is  the  first  law 
of  nature ;  and,  if  you  permit  Miss  Wells  to  leave  us 
now,  the  public  mind  is  in  such  a  state  of  ferment,  that 
she  will  be  able  to  turn  the  indignation  of  the  commu- 
nity against  us.  The  only  safe  course  that  I  can  see  is 
to  make  a  patient  of  her." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  wife,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  and  see  to 
it,  that  she  holds  no  communication  with  your  nephew 
and  his  wife  while  they  are  here." 

Mr.  Winchester  was  just  leaving  his  wife's  room,  and 
caught  the  doctor's  last  words.  He  listened  for  more ; 
but  a  movement  from  within  warned  him  that  there  was 
danger  of  being  discovered,  so  he  stole  quietly  back  to 
his  wife's  room. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Addie.  I  recollect  now 
that  Uncle  Denning  keeps  a  sort  of  private  asylum : 
can  it  be  possible  that  Alice  has  gone  wholly  de- 
ranged ?  " 

O 

"  I  can  not  believe  it,  Edward,  for  her  letter  was  so 
hopeful ;  she  seemed  cheerful,  —  so  reconciled  to  the 
past.  '  Bitter  as  my  experience  has  been,  I  believe 
that  a  loving  Father  has  permitted  it  all  in  wisdom : ' 
•these  are  her  very  words ;  and  I  can  not  believe,  after 
all  that  she  has  passed  through,  that  her  mind  has  be- 
come unbalanced  now." 

"  Some  people  really  think  that  a  medium  is  insane  : 
perhaps  that  is  why  she  is  here." 

"  Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Addie  thoughtfully. 

That  evening,  as  they  were  conversing  upon  different 
subjects,  Mr.  Winchester  turned  to  1  is  aunt,  and  said,  "  I 
bdieve  you  have  the  unpleasant  task  of  caring  for 


198  ALICE   VALE. 

the  insane  :  what  induced  you  to  undertake  such  a 
task  ?  " 

The  quickly  starting  tear  told  how  tei.der  the  chord 
he  had  touched.  "  Excuse  me,  Edward,"  said  she :  "  it 
is  a  painful  subject,  —  one  upon  which  I  can  not  speak 
to-night." 

"  Pardon  me,  aunt ;  but  I  have  a  particular  reason 
for  desiring  to  know  something  of  your  patients.  We 
have  a  dear  friend,  who  has  been  sadly  afflicted,  —  so 
much  so,  that  it  was  feared  at  one  time  that  she  would 
lose  her  mind ;  but,  the  last  we  heard  from  her,  she  was 
well,  and  seemed  to  be  reconciled  to,  yea,  happy  in,  her 
lot.  Now,  my  wife  insists  that  she  saw  her  face  at  an 
upper  window  to-day,  as  we  drove  up." 

"  What  was  your  friend's  name  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Mrs.  Shepherd,  —  Alice  Shepherd  :  her  name  was 
Vale  before  marriage." 

There  was  a  momentary  struggle  in  the  doctor's  mind, 
which  was  noticed  by  no  one  but  Winchester ;  and  he 
could  not  have  done  so,  had  he  not  been  watching,  for 
its  appearance  upon  the  surface  was  scarcely  perceptible. 
But,  when  he  spoke,  his  tones  were  as  calm  as  a  summer 
morning.  Turning  to  Addie  he  said,  — 

"  Only  a  resemblance,  Mrs.  Winchester ;  only  a  re- 
semblance. I  trust  that  your  friend  is  well  and  happy." 

"  Can  I  see  your  patients  to-morrow,  uncle  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  do  not  often  permit  them  to  see  strangers ;  but,  as 
a  special  favor  to  you,  I  will,"  was  the  smiling  reply. 

Addie  arose,  and  walked  to  a  picture  hanging  near 
the  front  door.  She  felt  a  restlessness,  a  sense  of  being 
wanted  somewhere,  that  she  could  not  account  for ;  and 


AFTER  MANY  DATS.  199 

yet  she  could  not  banish  it.  The  doctor  was  beside  her 
in  a  moment,  talking  to  her  in  tones  as  smooth  as  oil, 
explaining  the  different  points  in  the  painting,  and  mak- 
ing himself  obnoxious  generally ;  for  the  pure,  straight- 
forward nature  of  Addie  Winchester  shrank  from  the 
atmosphere  of  dissimulation  which  surrounded  him. 

She  bore  it  for  a  short  time,  and  then,  walking  away, 
took  a  seat  close  by  a  side  door.  Dr.  Denning  cast  upon 
her  a  keen  glance,  and  then  entered  into  conversation 
with  her  husband.  Addie  rested  her  head  against  a 
window-frame  near  her,  and,  as  she  did  so,  fancied  that 
she  heard  her  name  called.  Rising  quickly,  she  stepped 
out  into  the  open  air,  ere'  those  within  had  divined  her 
intention  :  as'  she  did  so,  a  paper  was  thrust  into  her 
hand,  while  a  female  form  flitted  around  the  corner  of 
the  building,  and  disappeared. 

Addie  had  barely  time  to  put  the  note  into  her  pocket 
ere  Mrs.  Denning  was  by  her  side. 

"  Are  you  sick  again,  my  dear  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  only  a  little  restless :  I  presume  I  am  nervous 
from  riding  so  far,"'  was  the  reply. 

"  I  feared  you  were,  you  looked  so  pale ;  but  I  guess 
a  night's  rest  will  restore  you.  Perhaps  you  would  like 
to  retire  ?  " 

No\y,  this  was  just  what  Addie  wanted ;  for  it  would 
give  her  an  opportunity  to  read  her  note. 

"  I  think  I  will,  aunt,"  she  said :  "  I  presume  it  will 
be  the  best  thing  I  can  do." 

Her  request  was  acceded  to  with  alacrity ;  for  it  was 
fondly  thought  that  she  was  thus  secured,  for  that  time 
at  least,  from  contact  with  those  who  might  tell  her  that 
which  they  did  not  wish  her  to  know. 


200  ALICE   VALE. 

On  arriving  at  the  room,  another  difficulty  presented 
itself;  for,  instead  of  leaving  Addie  alone  with  the  light, 
Mrs.  Denning  kept  moving  here  and  there,  talking  of 
this  and  that,  till  poor  Addie  was  nearly  desperate. 

"  Were  you  waiting  for  the  light,  aunt  ? "  she  at 
length  asked. 

Mrs.  Denning  colored.  "  No,  not  exactly  :  I 
thought  I  would  wait  and  see  if  there  was  any  thing 
you  needed." 

"  Nothing,  aunt, — nothing  but  quiet ;  and,  as  the  wife 
of  a  physician,  you  certainly  know  how  to  apologize  for 
nervous  people  :  if  you  want  the  light,  I  will  call  when  I 
am  done  with  it,"  said  Addie,' with  a  smile  as  bland  as 
any  the  doctor  could  assume. 

Thus  fairly  dismissed,  the  lady  could  do  no  better 
than  leave  the  room.  "  Alone  at  last,"  was  Addie's 
mental  comment. 

"  The  impudent  jade  !  "  soliloquized  Mrs.  Denning. 
"  I  presume  she  thinks  that  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
her  early  history.  I  wonder  where  she  would  have 
been  now  if  Edward  had  not  married  her." 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Denning  disappeared,  Addie  closed 
the  door,  and  produced  the  note  from  her  pocket.  With 
trembling  hand,  she  unfolded  it  and  read,  — 

"  DEAR  ADDIE,  —  Surely  the  angels  must  have  sent 
you  here  for  my  deliverance.  The  trouble  I  wrote  you 
of  has  come ;  and  I  am  here  a  close  prisoner,  charged 
with  insanity.  ALICE  SHEPHERD. 

"  P.  S.  —  My  keeper  is  my  friend,  an  I  will  give  you 
this  when  she  can  do  so  without  being  observed. 

"A.S." 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS.  201 

She  had  just  time  to  read  these  few  words  when  foot- 
steps were  again  heard,  and  had  hardly  thrust  the  note 
into  her  pocket,  when  the  door  was  opened  without 
ceremony,  and  Mrs.  Denning  said,  — 

"  Here,  Mrs.  Winchester,  are  some  matches.  You 
can  extinguish  the  light  when  you  are  done  with  it,  as 
we  shall  not  need  it." 

Addie  was  now  left  alone  till  her  husband  came. 
She  could  not  sleep ;  but  the  restlessness  that  had  so 
tortured  her  was  gone,  and  she  quietly  awaited  his  foot- 
step. 

"  I  will  manage  this,"  said  he,  when  he  had  heard 
her  story :  "  you  keep  quiet,  and  wait  the  development 
of  events  ;  but,  when  we  leave  tlu's  place,  Alice  goes  with 
us." 

In  the  morning,  Addie  arose  refreshed :  she  felt  that 
the  object  desired  would  be  accomplished,  and  had  rested 
upon  that  assurance.  She  was  complimented  upon  her 
improved  looks,  and  replied  with  a  smile.  When 
breakfast  was  over,  they  all  repaired  to  the  sitting-room, 
where,  after  about  half  an  hour's  conversation,  Mr. 
Winchester  said,  — 

"  Uncle,  do  you  include  me  in  the  promise  made  to 
my  wife  last  evening?  " 

"  What  promise  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  with  a  look  of 
annoyance. 

"  That  of  seeing  your  patients,  uncle." 

"  Oh  !  I  hoped  you  had  forgotten  that :  I  hardly  think 
I  ought  to  have  made  it.  I  should  very  murh  like  to 
gratify  you  ;  but  my  first  duty  is  to  them,  and  they  al- 
ways seem  worse  after  seeing  company." 

"  Then  you  do  not  intend  keeping  your  promise  ?  " 
paid  Addie. 


202  ALICE   VALE. 

"  If  you  insist  upon  it,  I  must,  of  course ;  but  I  was 
hoping  that  you  would  release  me." 

Mr.  Winchester  glanced  at  his  wife  with  an  expres- 
sion that  said  "  Wait ;  "  and  then,  turning  to  the  doctor, 
asked,  "  What  seems  to  be  the  greatest  inciting  cause 
to  insanity  just  now,  uncle  ?  " 

"  There  are  various  causes,  sir ;  but  the  principal  one 
just  at  this  time  seems  to  be  the  monomania  about  spir- 
its. I  don't  know  where  it  will  end ;  but  I  pray  God 
that  it  may  not  be  permitted  to  go  much  further,  for  it 
is  bringing  ruin  and  desolation  to  many  a  family." 

"  Are  any  of  your  present  patients  here  from  that 
cause  ?  " 

"  I  make  that  my  specialty,  —  the  work  to  which  I 
am  willing  to  devote  my  life  ;  hoping  thus,  through  my 
own  affliction,  to  become  a  blessing  to  others." 

"  Your  own  affliction,  uncle?  " 

"  Yes  :  have  you  not  learned  the  sad  history  of  your 
Cousin  Helen  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  that  she  was  married,  —  nothing  since 
then." 

The  doctor  sighed,  and  his  wife  turned  away  her 
head  to  hide  the  fast-gathering  tears.  "  She  was  our 
only  one,  and  the  darling  of  our  hearts,"  said  he  at 
length  ;  "  but  we  have  been  sorely  punished  for  making 
an  idol  of  any  earthly  object.  She  married,  and  married 
well.  Her  husband  was  not  exactly  the  one  we  should 
have  chosen  for  her,  ---  not  that  he  was  not  good  enough ; 
but  we  could  not  bear  to  have  our  darling  subjected  to 
the  trials  that  necessarily  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  minister's 
wife.  But  they  loved  each  other,  were  devotedly  at- 
tached, and  all  went  well  while  he  lived. 


AFTER  MANY  DATS.  '203 

"At  his  death,  which  was  eighteen  months  after  their 
marriage,  —  at  his  death,  the  work  of  retribution  com- 
menced ;  for  she  had  made  an  idol  of  him,  and  we  of 
her." 

"  I  think,  uncle,  that  you  and  I  might  differ  some- 
what in  our  views  upon  this  subject ;  but  please  go  on. 
If  I  understand  you  aright,  Cousin  Helen  became  in- 
sane." 

"  She  did  ;  and  the  first  symptom  that  we  noticed 
came  in  the  form  of  what  thousands  of  poor  deluded 
souls  call  spirit-manifestations." 

"How?"  asked  Addie. 

"  When  she  went  to  her  room  to  pray,  she  would 
come  out  insisting  that  she  had  seen  Albert ;  and 'the 
more  we  tried  to  reason  with  her,  to  show  her  the  fal- 
lacy of  such  an  idea,  the  more  positive  she  became  in 
asserting  that  it  was  really  true." 

"How  did  this  belief  seem  to  affect  her?  "asked 
Mr.  Winchester. 

"  Very  pleasantly  at  first ;  but,  when  she  found  that 
she  could  not  convince  us  of  its  truth,  she  began  to  droop, 
and  to  spend  more  time  by  herself,  till  one  day  she 
came  to  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  saying  she  believed 
that  God  had  forsaken  her. 

"  '  Why  do  you  think  that,  my  child  ?  '  I  asked. 

"  '  Because,  father,  I  was  not  content  with  making  an 
idol  of  my  husband  when  here :  I  have  kept  it  up  even 
beyond  the  tomb ;  and  now,  when  I  go  to  my  closet  to 
pray,  Jesus  hides  his  face,  and  only  Albert  is  present. 
I  can  see  nothing  else  ;  I  can  think  of  nothing  else. 
Alas  !  alas  !  I  fear  that  this  idolatry  has  cost  me  my 
soul.' 


204  ALICE  VALE. 

"  '  God  is  very  merciful,'  I  replied  :  '  only  believe, 
and  all  will  yet  be  well.' 

"  '  But  I  can  not  believe,  I  can  not  pray.  O  father, 
pray  for  me  ! '  she  fairly  shrieked  :  and,  if  ever  earnest 
prayers  ascended  from  mortal  lips,  they  were  those  that 
went  up  from  her  mother  and  myself  for  the  next  hour ; 
but,  alas  !  we  arose  from  our  knees  to  clasp  her  in  our 
arms  a  raving  maniac." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments ;  and  then 
Mr.  Winchester  asked,  "  Did  your  daughter  know  any 
thing  of  Spiritualism  ?  had  she  read  any  of  their  works  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  as  she  had  at  that  time  ;  but  I  learned 
afterward,  that,  while  she  was  in  school,  some  two  or 
three  of  the  girls  used  to  steal  away,  and  visit  one  of 
those  modern  witches  called  mediums,  and  Helen  some- 
tim'es  went  with  them.  Here  was  the  first  step  in  the 
wrong,  —  disobedience  to  parents  and  teachers,  in  prying 
into  that  which  was  forbidden." 

"  And  for  which  you  both  forgive  her  from  the  very 
depths  of  your  parental  hearts." 

"  Most  certainly  ;  but  that  did  not  prevent  the  con- 
sequences," was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  And  whence  came  those  consequences,  uncle  ?  " 

"  From  breaking  God's  just  and  holy  laws,  of  course." 

"  Consequences  which  we  must  reap  whether  the 
law  is  broken  ignorantly  or  willfully?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  in  some  cases ;  that  is,  physically :  but 
moral  law  is  quite  a  different  thing,"  was  the  hesitating 
reply. 

"  If  I  put  two  substances  into  a  bottle,  both  of  which 
are  harmless  in  themselves,  but  by  chemical  action  in 
their  union  they  become  poison,  and  I  drink  that  poi- 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS.  205 

son,  will  my  ignorance  of  the  fact  prevent  its  legitimate 
action  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not:  I  conceded  that." 

"  Never  mind,  uncle  :  I  wish  to  ask  you  one  or  two 
more  questions,  and  then  to  show  you  the  why.  If  the 
chemical  action  of  those  two  substances  is  too  great  for 
the  strength  of  the  bottle,  will  any  amount  of  praying 
prevent  its  breaking  ?  " 

44  What  a  strange  question  !  "  said  Mrs.  Denning. 

44  Not  so  strange  as  it  may  seem,  madam.  You  believe 
in  obedience  to  parents,  of  course ;  but  suppose  you  ig- 
norantly  command  your  child  to  take  poison,  will  the 
fact  of  her  obedience  prevent  the  legitimate  action  of 
that  poison  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  If  there  is  a  remedy  at  hand,  that,  if  taken  in  time, 
will  cure  her,  but  you  think  it  wilt  make  her  worse, 
and  forbid  her  taking  it,  —  if  she  feels  that  she  must 
have  it,  and  takes  it  in  spite  of  your  prohibition,  will  the 
fact  that  she  has  disobeyed  you  prevent  the  action  of 
that  remedy  in  saving  her  life  ?  " 

44  Of  course  it  would  not;  but  what  are  you  aiming 
at,  Mr.  Winchester  ?  " 

44 1  wish  to  show  you,  uncle,  that  your  affliction  is 
the  result  of  the  violation  of  physical,  and  not  of  moral 
law." 

44  That  is  not  possible,  sir,  —  not  possible.  There  was 
no  physical  law  violated,  only  moral  and  mental :  she 
was  perfectly  healthy  in  body,  even  to  the  day  of  her 
death." 

44  How  did  she  die,  then  ?  " 

44  By  violence :  she  managed  to  secrete  a  knife,  ai  d 


206  ALICE   VALE. 

destroyed  herself  with  it.  True,  she  did  not  die  im- 
mediately ;  but  that  was  the  cause  of  it.  The  loss  of 
blood,  however,  seemed  to  cool  the  fever  of  her  brain  ; 
and  she  was  very  calm  during  the  last  hour  of  her  life, 
and  was  perfectly  reconciled  to  go,  —  said  that  she 
had  sinned,  but  that  God  had  forgiven  her,  and  all  was 
well.  Were  it  not  for  this,  I  am  certain  that  I  should 
go  mad  with  despair.  But  I  regard  Spiritualism  as  the 
cause  of  her  ruin  ;  and,  while  I  live,  it  shall  be  my  sole 
effort  to  put  it  down." 

"  I  told  you,  uncle,  that  I  should  not  agree  with  you ; 
for  I  do  not  regard  Spiritualism  as  in  the  least  to  blame 
for  your  daughter's  death." 

"  To  what,  then,  do  you  attribute  it  ?  " 

"  To  the-result  of  her  early  teachings,  combined  with 
the  ignorance  of  those  who  had  the  care  of  her." 

o 

The  doctor  flushed.  "  No  disrespect,  uncle  :  the  best 
and  wisest  of  people  can  not  be  otherwise  than  ignorant 
of  that  they  refuse  to  investigate,  or,  if  they  make  the 
attempt,  do  so  from  their  own  past  standards,  instead  of 
applying  the  rules  that  belong  to  the  new  development. 
Now,  this  is  just  what  our  church  people  have  done  in 
reference  to  Spiritualism.  They  have  utterly  refused 
to  investigate,  or  have  done  so  from  wrong  stand-points  ; 
consequently,  are  ignorant  of  its  true  significance." 

"  Does  not  the  Bible  tell  us  to  let  these  things  alore  ?  " 

"  The  Bible  tells  us  to  '  prove  all  things,  anr1  hold 
fast  that  which  is  good/  ' 

"  And  I  have  proved  it,  and  found  it  an  upas-tree  of 
bitterness,  sir." 

"  And  that  is  just  where  I  wish  to  show  you  that  you 
are  mistaken,  doctor.  You  have  shown  me  by  your 


AFTER  MANY  DAYS.  207 

own  confession,  that  you  believe  God  punishes  sin,  out- 
side of  the  act  itself:  still,  in  your  answers  to  questions 
that  I  have  asked  you,  have  proved  an  entirely  different 
doctrine.  For  instance  :  you  speak  of  disobe  lience  to 
parents  and  teachers,  as  the  first  step  toward  your 
daughter's  ruin,  and  yet  have  conceded  conditions  in 
which  disobedience  might  prove  a  blessing,  and  its  oppo- 
site a  curse." 

"  And  would  you  counsel  disobedience  to  parents, 
then  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Denning. 

"  No  ;  but  I  would  show  you  that  it  is  the  relation 
which  the  act  sustains  to  God's  laws,  and  not  the  fact  of 
a  parent's  command,  that  decides  the  result.  God's 
laws  are  infallible,  and  can  not  be  set  aside  ;  man's  judg- 
ment fallible,  liable  to  be  in  the  wrong." 

"  And  what  has  this  to  do  with  Helen's  case?  "  asked 
the  doctor. 

"  Simply  tins,  uncle  :  just  as  long  as  you  believe  an 
affliction,  that  has  no  direct  connection  with  a  particular 
act,  to  have  come  in  consequence  of  that  act,  you  will 
never  seek  for  the  true  cause." 

"  And  what  do  you  believe  the  true  cause  to  have 
been  in  her  case  ?  " 

"  The  violation  of  physical  law,  caused  by  false  re- 
ligious teaching." 

"  And  do  you,  Mr.  Winchester,  ignore  the  religion  of 
the  Bible  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say,  uncle.  I  do  ignore 
much  that  is  called  the  religion  of  the  Bible  ;  for  in- 
stance, the  idea  that  God  punishes  us  f<  r  loving  our 
friends  too  well  by  taking  them  from  us.  I  beh'eve  this 
idea  to  be  dishonoring  to  God,  and  ruinous  in  its  ten- 


208  ALICE   VALE. 

dency ;  and  the  belief  that  God  punishes  us  outside 
of  the  legitimate  consequences  of  violated  law  is,  to  my 
mind,  equally  so.  Now,  by  your  own  confession,  you 
believe  both  of  the  above,  and  taught  them  to  your 
daughter." 

"  Does  not  the  Bible  say  that  God  is  a  jealous  God  ?  " 

"  Suppose  the  Bible  told  me  that  God  was  a  devil, 
would  I  be  under  obligation  to  receive  it  ?  Certainly  not, 
you  will  say  ;  and  yet  you  regard  jealousy,  as  exhibited 
by  men  and  women,  as  one  of  the  most  despicable  traits 
of  character,  —  sufficient  proof  that  God,  the  Infinite 
Spirit  of  love  and  truth,  could  never  stoop  to  being  jeal- 
ous of  the  love  of  his  creatures." 

"  You  are  talking  very  strangely,  sir." 

"  I  presume  it  appears  so  to  you ;  but  hear  me  through. 
Your  child  learns  something  of  the  philosophy  and  facts 
of  Spiritualism,  — enough  to  induce  the  belief  that  the 
return  of  the  loved  one  is  possible.  She  loves  her  hus- 
band intensely  ;  and,  in  thus  loving  him  whom  she  had 
seen,  she  loved  God,  whom  she  had  not  seen.  He  dies  ; 
and  her  heart  goes  out  after  him  with  an  intensity  of 
yearning  that  is  like  taking  the  kingdom  of  heaven  by 
violence.  Love  responds  to  love  ;  she  feels  his  presence ; 
his  spirit-magnetism,  acting  in  conjunction  with  her  in- 
tense desire,  stimulates  the  natural  but  hitherto  dormant 
faculty  of  clairvoyance,  and  she  sees  him. 

"  Now,  what  is  the  result?  Does  she  love  God  less  ? 
No :  but  more,  much  more ;  and  she  is  happy,  and  would 
have  continued  so,  had  she  been  let  alone.  But  she  has 
confidence  in  you,  her  parents :  your  disbelief  in  the  re- 
ality of  that  which  gives  her  so  much  comfort  makes 
her  doubt.  Her  love  to  God,  and  love  to  man  in  the 


AFTER  MANY  DATS.  209 

person  of  her  husband,  are  so  blended  that  she  can  not 
separate  them ;  and  thus  these  two  loves,  so  naturally 
harmonious,  become  the  source  of  a  terrible  conflict  in 
her  :nind,  through  the  false  idea  that  one  is  sinful,  and 
opposed  to  the  other.  In  this  conflict,  the  brain,  like 
the  bottle  in  the  illustration  I  gave,  unable  to  stand  the 
pressure,  gives  way,  and  she  is  a  maniac," 

The  doctor  groaned  aloud,  and  Mrs.  Denning  seemed 
about  to  faint.  "  This  may  seem  cruel,"  said  Mr.  Win- 
chester :  "  but  I  am  not  intentionally  so  ;  and  I  believe, 
that,  when  you  have  learned  the  true  lesson  contained  in 
this  bitter  affliction,  you  will  take  an  entirely  different 
course  from  that  which  you  are  now  taking." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments ;  then  Mr.  Win- 
chester continued,  "  Now,  uncle,  I  do  not  know  just 
what  your  motive  is  for  concealing  the  fact ;  but  you 
have  one  patient  here  that  we  must  see  before  we  leave. 
I  mean  Mrs.  Shepherd.  She  has  been  here  but  a  short 
time,  and,  so  far,  has  received  no  particular  injury ;  but, 
if  not  permitted  to  leave,  may  become  as  insane  as  was 
your  daughter." 

Had  a  shell  exploded  in  their  midst,  the  doctor  and 
his  wife  could  not  have  been  more  astonished,  more 
completely  taken  by  surprise.  "  What  do  you  propose 
doing  with  her  ?  "  was  at  length  asked. 

"  Take  her  home  with  us,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  She  was  left  in  my  care  ;  and,  if  I  let  her  go,  her 
uncle  will  hold  me  responsible." 

"  Let  him  make  trouble  about  it  if  he  dare,"  was  the 
response  :  "  Alice  Shepherd  is  no  more  insane  than  he 
is ;  and  he  knows  it." 

The  doctor  still  hesitated.      "  Did  he  bring  cert  fi- 

14 


210  ALICE   VALE. 

cates  from  competent  physicians  to  show  that  she  was 
insane  ?  "  continued  Winchester. 

"  I  will  bring  her  down,"  was  the  reply  ;  for  this  last 
question  awakened  him  to  the  fact  that  the  proceedings 
had  been  illegal  throughout. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Alice  and  Addie  were  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms ;  and,  on  the  following  day,  she  went 
forth  with  her  friends  from  what,  to  her,  had  so  nearly 
proved  a  living  tomb.  The  impression  made  by  Ed- 
ward Winchester  upon  the  doctor  and  his  wife  did  not 
pass  away  with  the  occasion.  They  commenced  an 
earnest  investigation  of  that  which  they  had  so  unquali- 
fiedly condemned ;  and  the  result  was,  that  they  were 
soon  numbered  among  its  strongest  advocates,  and  their 
house  became  the  home  of,  instead  of  a  prison  for, 
mediums. 


MOST  FEARED.  211 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MOST   FEARED. 
That  which  I  most  feared  came  upon  me." — Bible. 

EVER  was  tins  text  more  fully  exempli- 
fied than  in  the  case  of  the  Vales.  Their 
principal  object  in  sending  Alice  to  Dr. 
Denning's  establishment  was  to  prevent 
the  disgrace  of  having  a  relative  of  theirs 
go  forth  publicly  to  advocate  an  unpopular  cause ;  and 
mark  the  result. 

When  Porter  returned  to  N ,  he,  of  course,  called 

to  see  Alice,  and  was  very  much  surprised  to  learn  from 
her  uncle  that  she  was  no  longer  with  them.  The  doc- 
tor had  written  to  Mr.  Vale,  stating  the  circumstances 
under  which  she  had  left  there ;  and  he  had  hardly  re- 
covered from  the  chagrin  consequent  upon  her  escape, 
when  his  equilibrium  was  again  disturbed  by  this  call 
of  Porter's. 

He  could  have  wished  the  intruder  anywhere  else 
but  there,  but  still  was  forced  to  treat  him  civilly. 

"  Gone  back  East ! "  said  Porter  wonderingly.  "  Was 
it  not  rather  unexpected  ?  " 

"  Rather,"  was  Vale's  hesitating  reply.  "  She  went 
with  us  to  visit  some  friends,  —  old  acquaintances  of 
Father  Shelton's,  residing  in  Williams  County, — and 
found,  when  she  reached  there,  that  the  lady  was  a  rela- 


212  ALICE  VALE. 

tive  of  some  of  her  old  friends  in  Ellsville ;  and,  while 
there,  these  friends  came  out  on  a  visit :  so  she  concluded 
to  return  with  them." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  her  since  she  left  there  ?  " 
asked  Porter. 

"  Not  directly  :  she  will  probably  not  write  till  she 
reaches  her  old  home ;  and,  as  they  expect  to  stop  at 
different  points,  they  will  be  some  time  on  the  way." 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  name  of  the  people  she  went 
with?"' 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Mr.  Porter,"  said  Vale,  with  some 
asperity  in  his  tones.  "  You  are  questioning  me  as 
closely,  sir,  as  if  you  doubted  the  truthfulness  of  my 
statement.  The  name  was  Winchester,  and  the  gentle- 
man is  a  nephew  of  Mrs.  Denning's."  Mr.  Vale  could 
have  bitten  his  own  tongue  with  vexation  when  he  saw 
the  expression  upon  Porter's  face  at  the  mention  of  this 
last  name. 

"  And  there  is  where  you  went,  was  it  ?  " 

"  It  was,"  he  replied,  with  as  much  self-possession  as 
he  could  assume.  "  Are  you  acquainted  with  them  ?  " 

"  Keeps  a  private  insane  asylum,  I  believe,"  continued 
Porter. 

"  He  has  sometimes  taken  such  patients,  at  the  par- 
ticular request  of  friends." 

"  And  may  I  inquire,  Mr.  Vale,  if  you  met  those 
friends  of  Mrs.  Shepherd's,  or  did  they  come  after  you 
left  ?  "  asked  Porter  coolly. 

"  Sir,"  said  Vale,  rising  to  his  feet,  while  his  face 
flushed  with  anger,  "  your  questions  are  becoming  im- 
pertinent :  what  is  it  that  you  w*)uld  insinuate  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  if  there  is  nothing  hidden,"  replcd  Por- 
ter, bowing  himself  out. 


MOST  FEARED.  213 

Now,  Mr.  Vale  was  not  what  would  be  called  a  bad 
man  ;  but  he  had  something  of  the  same  stubborn  nature 
as  his  brother,  Alice's  father,  —  was  unyielding,  even 
when  proved  in  the  wrong.  He  merely  regretted  tak- 
ing the  course  that  he  had  done  in  reference  to  Alice 
and  her  mediumship ;  but,  the  wrong  step  taken,  it  re- 
quired still  another  to  keep  it  out  of  sight :  and,  as  to 
being  defeated,  he  had  no  idea  of  permitting  it ;  that  is, 
the  disgrace  that  he  had  sought  to  avoid. 

Mrs.  Vale  was  busy  when  Mr.  Porter  called,  and  did 
not  see  him,  but  wondered  at  her  husband's  troubled 
countenance  when  she  came  into  the  room  soon  after 
his  visitor  had  left.  "  What  is  the  matter,  James  ?  "  she 
asked :  "  are  you  sick  ?  or  is  something  troubling  you  ?  " 

"  My  head  is  not  feeling  quite  right  this  morning," 
said  he,  trying  to  smile.  "  I  think  I  will  go  out  into 
the  air  a  while  ;  "  and,  taking  his  hat,  he,  without  any 
definite  object  in  view,  started  toward  the  post-office. 
"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
along.  "  It  will  never  do  to  let  this  thing  get  out,  and 
yet  Porter  will  be  sure  to  find  out  every  thing.  Alice 
will  write  and  tell  him,  if  he  learns  it  in  no  other  way." 

Right  here  he  came  to  a  full  stop,  just  as  if  some  new 
thought  had  occurred  to  him,  and  he  could  not  decide 
to  act  upon  it  without  a  moment's  quiet.  "  I  think  I 
will  try  it,"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  Den- 
ning's  daughter  married  a  brother  of  the  postmaster 
here  ;  and,  if  there  is  any  thing  on  earth  that  he  hates,  it 
is  a  Spiritualist ;  "  and,  walking  briskly  forward,  he  soon 
found  himself  in  Uncle  Sam's  distributing  office. 

"  Is  there  a  letter  here  for  J.  N.  Porte:-?  "  said  he  in 
so  low  a  tone  as  not  to  be  overheard  by  :  hose  standing 
aroun  i. 


214  ALICE  VALE. 

The  postmaster  looked  up  as  if  a  little  surprised,  but, 
seeing  "who  it  was,  supposed  it  was  all  right,  and  quietly 
put  one  into  his  hands.  Mr.  Vale  glanced  at  it,  and 
knew,  from  the  writing  and  post-mark,  that  it  was  from 
Alice.  "  Are  you  very  busy,  Mr.  Rawson  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Somewhat,  though  not  so  much  so  but  that  I  can 
bear  an  interruption,  if  there  is  any  thmg  of  importance 
on  hand,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  wish  very  much  to  have  a  few  moments'  con- 
versation with  you,"  said  Vale. 

"  Very  well,  walk  this  way  then." 

"  I  want,  in  the  first  place,  Mr.  Rawson,  that  you 
should  look  at  this  letter :  examine  the  post-mark,  and 
especially  the  hand-writing,  so  closely  that  you  will 
know  it  if  another  comes  here  from  the  same  person ; 
and,  when  you  have  done  so,  I  will  tell  you  why." 

"  No  harm,  I  hope,  to  you  or  yours,  Mr.  Vale,"  was 
that  worthy's  reply,  as  he  took  the  letter,  and  com- 
menced the  required  examination. 

"•Yes:  there  is  a  great  deal  of  harm  threatened. 
This  Porter  is  a  Spiritualist ;  and  I  have  reason  to  think 
that  he  is  courting  my  niece.  She  went  nearly  crazy 
when  she  lost  her  husband :  indeed,  we  feared  that  she 
would  be  quite  so ;  and,  just  as  she  began  to  be  a  little 
more  cheerful,  she  made  this  fellow's  acquaintance.  He 
induced  her  to  go  to  circles,  and  has  so  far  psychologized 
her  that  she  really  believes  herself  a  medium  for  spirit 
communication.  She  has  gone  East  again,  through  the 
influence  of  some  old  friends  :  and  what  I  want  now  is 
to  break  up  all  correspondence  between  t^em  ;  for,  if  this 
thing  goes  on,  she  will  be  as  insane  yet  as  your  brother's 
wife  was." 


MOST  FEARED.  215 

Mr.  Rawson  stood  a  moment  as  if  irresolute.  "  Wh/it 
is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  do,  Mr.  Vale  ?  "  he  at  length 
asked. 

"  That  which  I  would  not  wish  you  to  do  under 
almost  any  other  circumstance,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but 
Alice  is  very  dear  to  me,  and  I  must  save  her  if  I  can. 
I  wish  you  to  retain  her  letters,  all  of  them,  and  give 
them  to  me  ;  for,  if  she  can  not  accomplish  her  object  by 
writing  directly  to  Porter,  she  will  write  to  that  medium, 
Ellen  Bell."  " 

"  What,  that  young  siren !  indeed,  I  will  do  any 
thing  in  the  bounds  of  reason  to  defeat  the  like  of  her. 
It  is  dangerous  business,  Mr.  Vale,  this  tampering  with 
letters  ;  but,  in  fighting  the  Devil,  I  don't  know  as  we 
should  be  choice  of  our  weapons.  If  nothing  else  could 
influence  me  to  act  for  you  in  this  matter,  the  memory 
of  my  lost  brother,  and  the  fate  of  his  unhappy  wife, 
would  decide  the  question." 

"Thanks, — a  thousand  thanks;  but  had  you  not 
better  keep  the  envelope  to  this  ?  "  asked  Vale,  as  he 
tore  it  from  the  letter  inclosed. 

"  I  think  it  a  good  idea ;  for  one  can  compare  better 
than  they  can  judge  from  memory,"  was  the  response. 

Things  being  thus  arranged  to  his  satisfaction,  Mr. 
Vale  left  the  office ;  for  he  was  anxious  to  read  Alice's 
letter,  but  not  there. 

Porter,  after  his  interview  with  Mr.  Vale,  went  di- 
rectly to  Miss  Bell's.  She  had  company  at  the  time  of 
his  arrival,  and  could  not  see  him  just  then  ;  and  he 
waited  at  least  half  an  hour  before  he  was  summoned  to 
her  presence. 


216  ALICE   VALE. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Porter  ?  Glad  to  see  you ; 
but  our  friend  has  gone,"  was  the  greeting  he  received. 

"  So  I  perceive  ;  but  can  you  tell  me  where  ?  "  He 
said  this,  first  for  the  purpose  of  testing  her  powers  in 
this  direction,  and,  further,  because  he  had  his  doubts  in 
reference  to  what  was  told  him  of  her  going  East. 

"  I  can,"  said  she,  "  and  that  without  using  my 
mediumship." 

He  looked  up  inquiringly,  and  she  continued :  "  Henry 
Pond,  one  of  the  members  of  our  circle,  was  down  at 
Mr.  Shelton's  place  last  week  on  business,  and  one  of 
their  preachers  was  there.  Pond  says  that  he  don't 
know  what  made  him  do  as  he  did  ;  but,  when  he  went 
into  the  room,  almost  the  first  question  asked  him,  after 
they  learned  that  he  was  from  this  place,  was,  if  he  knew 
any  thing  of  the  medium  here ;  and  without  a  moment's 
thought,  or  even  an  idea  of  what  he  was  going  to  say, 
he  responded  that  he  never  inquired  after  such  trash. 

"  He  says  that  they  looked  very  much  pleased,  and 
asked  if  he  was  a  member  of  any  church.  Now,  Pond 
belonged  to  the  Methodists  before  he  came  here,  and  has 
never  had  his  name  taken  from  their  books;  so  he  told 
them  that  he  was  a  Methodist,  or  had  been,  but,  as  he 
was  not  settled  as  yet,  had  not  joined  anywhere  since 
he  came  West. 

"  '  Dangerous,  dangerous,  young  man,  to  live  without 
the  watch-care  of  the  church,'  said  the  preacher. 
*  You  ought  to  take  a  letter,  and  hand  it  into  the  class, 
if  you  don't  stop  in  a  place  more  than  six  weeks,  or  at 
least  to  report  yourself,  and  claim  that  brotherly  watch- 
care  to  which  you  are  entitled.  I  fear  that  you  have 
not  done  even  this,  my  young  friend ;  for  N is  on 


MOST  FEARED.  217 

my  circuit,  and  I  do  not  recollect  seeing  your  lace  in 
our  meetings  there.' 

"  *  Perhaps  I  have  been  a  little  careless,  but  will  try 
to  do  better  in  future,'  was  Pond's  response." 

"  The  croaking  hypocrites!  "  exclaimed  Porter:  "  they 
wouldn't  get  me  to  make  any  such  concessions." 

"  Wait,  and  hear  the  sequel,"  said  Miss  Bell.  "  Mr. 
Pond  did  not  intend  it  as  a  concession :  he  can  do 
better,  much  better,  in  the  future,  and  so  can  we  all. 
Progress  is  what  we  are  aiming  for  ;  but  it  does  not 
follow  that  we  shall  do  what  they  think  is  better,  or 
progress  after  their  fashion." 

"  Strange  kind  of  progress  it  would  be,  I  am  think- 
ing*5  but  what  next  ?  " 

Miss  Bell  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  moment,  while 
her  eyes  assumed  a  far-off  expression.  "  Joseph,"  said 
she  at  length, "  will  you  never  learn  to  separate  that 
tinge  of  bitterness  from  your  otherwise  noble  nature  ?  " 

The  young  man  made  no  reply  to  this  appeal,  but, 
dropping  his  head  Into  his  hands,  sat  silent  for  some 
minutes  ;  and  a  close  observer  would  have  seen  the  tears 
trickling  through  his  fingers,  while  the  medium,  resum- 
ing her  natural  expression,  said,  — 

"  Oh !  you  wished  to  know  what  next.  I  believe  I 
must  have  lost  myself  for  a  moment.  Pond  said  that 
they  then  commenced  talking  of  the  evil  tendency  of 
Spiritualism,  —  said  that  it  was  setting  people  crazy  all 
over  the  country  ;  and,  in  confirmation  of  that  statement, 
Mr.  Shelton  spoke  of  Alice,  —  said  she  was  losing  her 
reason,  and  that  he  had  advised  her  removal  to  a  private 
asylum. 

"  'And  did  her  friends  follow  vour  advice  ?  '  asked 


218  ALICE   VALE. 

Pond.      Mr.  Shelton  looked  as  if  he  thought  he  had 
said  too  much  perhaps,  and  replied  rather  hesitatingly, 
*  I  think  not :  they  talked  of  doing  so  ;  but  I  hear  that 
she  has  gone  back  to  her  friends  in  New  York  ; '  and 
then  the  conversation  turned  upon  my  humble  self." 
"  Ah  !  and  what  did  they  have  to  say  about  you  ?  " 
"  They  seemed  very  much  troubled  as  to  how  they 
could  put  an  end  to  my  influence ;    asked    Mr.  Pond 
various    questions,  and   among   other   things   what   lie 
thought  had  better  be  done." 

O 

"  And  what  did  he  tell  them  ?  "  asked  Porter. 

"  That  'most  any  means  was  justifiable  in  abating  a 
nuisance  ;  and  then  the  preacher  proposed  to  burn  me 
out." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  and  what  did  Mr.  Shelton  say  to  that?  " 

"  That  it  would  not  do ;  for,  if  found  out,  it  would  do 
their  cause  more  harm  than  I  could  if  left  undis- 
turbed." 

"  The  old  fellow  has  a  little  sense  left,  I  really  must 
acknowledge  ;  but  did  you  learn  nothing  further  of 
Alice  ?  " 

"  Nothing  further,  Mr.  Porter ;  but  there  are  some 
here  who  think  she  is  in  a  private  asylum  in  Williams 
County,  and  they  are  going  to  take  steps  to  ascertain  ; 
would  have  done  so  immediately,  but  my  controlling 
spirit  told  them  to  wait." 

"  I  think  it  is  just  as  well  that  you  did  ;  for  I  hardly 
believe  she  is  there  now,  though  she  may  have  been 
taken  there  in  the  first  place,"  said  Porter  in  reply, 
and  then  related  what  occurred  at  his  interview  with 
Mr.  Vale. 

"  Have  you  been  to  the  post-office  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Bell. 


MOST  FEARED.  219 

"  I  have  not :  I  was  not  expecting  letters  here  ;  but 
why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  If  Alice  is  free,  Mr.  Porter,  —  if  she  is  where  she 
can  control  •  her  own  acts,  —  she  will  write  to  you  or 
me." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that :  I  will  go  this  minute," 
said  Porter,  starting  to  his  feet. 

"  And  inquire  for  me,  if  you  please,  though  it  may 
be  no  use,  even  if  there  is  one  there ;  for  I  have  some- 
times thought  that  I  did  not  get  all  my  letters." 

"He  would  not  dare  retain  them,  Miss  Bell,"  said 
Porter,  with  flashing  eye. 

"  Don't  get  excited  now,"  said  she  quietly :  "  it  is  a 
long  road  that  has  no  turn  to  it.  But  please  hurry ; 
for  they  will  not  keep  your  letters,  if  they  do  mine  ;  and 
I  am  anxious  to  know  if  there  is  any  thing  from  Mrs. 
Shepherd." 

Thus  importuned,  Porter  was  not  long  in  making  his 
way  to  the  office,  but  with  what  result  our  readers 
already  know. 

On  leaving  the  office,  Porter  passed  down  a  different 
street  from  the  one  he  came,  and,  without  intending  it, 
found  himself  going  in  the  direction  of  Vale's.  He 
had  gone  about  three  squares,  when  a  letter,  lying  partly 
under  the  edge  of  a  plank,  caught  his  attention. 

"  Some  one  has  lost  a  letter,"  said  he  to  himself;  but, 
not  thinking  that  it  could  be  of  any  interest  to  him,  he 
had  passed  quite  by,  when  a  feeling  that  he  could  not 
account  for  prompted  him  to  turn,  and  pick  it  up.  The 
envelope  was  undirected  ;  but,  being  open,  he  proceeded 
to  look  within  :  and  judge  of  his  astonishment  tc  find 
that  it  was  addressed  to  himself,  and  from  Alice. 


220  ALICE   V^LE. 

"  More  villainy !  "  was  his  involuntary  thought  ;  and, 
looking  up  the  street,  saw  Vale  coming  around  tl  e  next 
corner,  glancing  here  and  there  with  a  quick,  rervous 
movement,  as  though  searching  for  something  that  it 
was  important  he  should  find.  Porter  held  the  letter 
quietly  in  his  hand  till  Vale  was  close  upon  him,  and 
then  asked,  — 

"  Have  you  lost  any  thing,  Mr.  Vale  ?  " 

That  gentleman  glared  upon  him  as  though  he  would 
say,  "  What  is  that  to  you?  "  but,  on  seeing  the  letter 
in  Porter's  hand,  turned  white  to  the  very  lips.  Porter 
held  up  the  letter  with  the  utmost  coolness,  saying,  — 

"  I  just  picked  up  this,  which  I  find  is  addressed  to 
me.  I  did  not  know  but  it  might  be  what  you  were 
looking  for." 

Vale  saw,  that,  so  far  as  moral  certainty  was  concerned, 
Porter  knew  that  he  had  taken  his  letter ;  but  there  was 
no  legal  proof:  so,  putting  on  a  show  of  indignation,  he 
exclaimed,  — 

"  What  in  God's  name  do  you  suppose  I  want  with 
your  letters  ?  " 

"  Take  care  there,  now  :  don't  be  calling  upon  stran- 
gers," said  Porter,  in  his  most  provoking  tones.  Vale  had 
too  much  self-respect,  or,  I  should  rather  say,  too  much 
regard  for  his  reputation,  to  fight ;  but  his  rage  was  so 
great,  that  the  only  way  in  which  he  could  restrain  him- 
self was  to  turn  and  walk  abruptly  away. 

"  The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth,"  called 
Porter  after  him  ;  but  just  then  the  words,  "  Will  you 
never  learn  to  separate  that  tinge  of  bitterness  from 
your  otherwise  noble  nature?"  flashed  through  his 
mind ;  and,  with  all  disposition  to  taunt  or  trifle  gone, 


MOST  FEARED.  221 

he  walked  on  in  sober  silence.     And  myv  a  word  as  to 
Vale's  losing  the  letter. 

He  had  left  the  office,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that 
he  might  be  able  to  learn  the  contents  of  the  letter  with- 
out danger  of  interruption,  fearing  that,  if  he  waited  to 
read  it  there,  a  friend  of  Porter's,  who  was  present, 
might,  by  some  chance,  catch  a  glimpse  of  some  word 
it  contained:  so  he  hurried  out,  first  slipping  it  into 
another  envelope.  He  resolved  not  to  look  at  it  till 
safely  seated  in  his  own  room  and  the  door  locked ;  but 
alas  for  human  calculations,  and  especially  when  guilt 
takes  part  therein  ! 

He  had  not  gone  more  than  half  the  distance  to  his 
home,  when  he  met  a  friend,  who  said,  "  Glad  to  meet 
you,  Vale:  have  you  that  note  with  you?  I  wish  to  pay 
it  now." 

"  I  believe  I  have,"  was  the  response  ;  but  in  his  ab- 
sent state  of  mind,  together  with  the  tremulousness  that 
conscious  wrong  gives  to  those  who  are  not  hardened, 
he  thrust  his  hand  into  every  pocket  but  the  right  one  ; 
and,  in  his  search,  the  letter  upon  which  so  much  de- 
pended, fell  to  the  ground  without  either  of  them  per- 
ceiving it.  Judge,  then,  of  his  feelings,  when,  upon 
reaching  his  room,  he  found  that  it  was  gone. 

He  looked  so  perplexed  when  he  met  his  wife  at  din- 
ner, that  she  insisted  upon  knowing  what  troubled  him. 
"  If  I  never  believed  the  Bible  before,  I  should  do  so 
now,"  was  his  impatient  response. 

"  Why,  what  new  proof  have  you  hai  of  its  truth- 
3.  fulness  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  declaration  therein  which  reads  some- 
thing like  this :  '  That  which  is  done  in  secret,  shall 


222  ALICE   VALE. 

be  proclaimed  upon  the  house-top ; '  and  it  is  becoming 
literally  true  as  it  regards  our  course  toward  Alice. 
Every  step  that  we  have  taken  to  keep  her  from  mak- 
ing a  fool  of  herself,  and  disgracing  us,  is  being  made 
public  as  fast  as  possible." 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  the  heart  of  modern  infidelity  is  full  of 
eyes  round  about,  —  yes,  and  ears  too ;  and  the  birds 
of  the  air  whisper  the  secret  thoughts  of  the  heart." 

"  Can't  you  speak  intelligibly  ?    How  bitter  you  are  !  " 

"  I  feel  bitter,"  was  his  response ;  and  then,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  he  told  her  of  his  interview  with  Por- 
ter in  the  morning,  the  course  he  had  taken  to  pre- 
vent a  communication  between  him  and  Alice,  finishing 
up  with  the  lost  letter  and  the  fact  of  its  falling  into 
Porter's  hands.  "  That  he,  of  all  others,  should  find  it, 
is  what  provokes  me,"  said  he. 

Mrs.  Vale  paled  with  fear.  "  O  husband !  how 
could  you  take  such  a  step  ?  You  have  not  only  done 
wrong,  but  have  made  yourself  liable  to  imprisonment." 

"  As  to  the  wrong,  I  can  not  see  it ;  for,  if  Alice  need- 
ed treatment  lest  she  should  become  insane,  she  is  cer- 
tainly unfit  to  be  trusted  with  a  correspondence  that 
will  injure  her  best  friends  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  do 
not  know  the  true  state  of  the  case  :  and,  as  to  the  other, 
he  has  no  proof  as  to  who  took  the  letter  from  the  office. 
Still,  the  impression  will  be  made  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people  that  I  did  it ;  and  the  disgrace  will  be  as  great, 
even  greater,  than  if  we  had  left  Alice  to  pursue  her 
own  course :  for,  in  that  case,  it  would  have  b  ten  indi- 
rect ;  in  this,  it  is  direct." 

"Do  you   mean   to  say  that  there  is  no  wrong  in 


MOST  FEARED.  223 

breaking  open  a  letter  addressed  to  another  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Vale  in  astonishment. 

"  No :  I  did  not  say  that.  What  I  mean  is  this.  If 
the  first  step  was  justifiable,  the  last  was.  If  we  had 
a  right  to  confine  Alice,  we  have  a  right  to  open  her 
letters.  I  am  satisfied  that  the  whole  thing  was  wrong 
from  beginning  to  end  ;  for,  if  the  principle  was  carried 
out,  there  would  be  an  end  to  personal  safety.  She  has 
just  as  good  a  right  to  confine  us  if  we  are  taking  a 
course  that  does  not  please  her,  as  we  have  to  confine 
her." 

"  You  do  not  pretend  to  say,  Mr.  Vale,  that  Christians 
have  no  right  to  prevent  their  friends  from  taking  a 
course  that  will  end  in  the  ruin  of  both  body  and  soul  ?  " 

"  If  people  are  determined  t«  go  to  hell,  God  does 
not  interfere  to  prevent  it ;  and  why  should  we  ?  No, 
wife  :  Christians  have  no  such  rights.  God  never  gave 
them  such  rights ;  for  such  is  the  weakness  of  man's 
judgment,  that  all  safety  of  person  would  be  at  an  end, 
even  if  the  very  best  of  them  were  permitted  to  assume 
such  a  prerogative." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  God's  children  —  those  who 
are  striving  to  obey  his  laws  —  ought  to  have  some 
rights  over  those  who  are  constantly  trampling  these 
laws  under  foot." 

"  It  may  seem  so  to  you ;  but,  were  it  so,  our  free  in- 
stitutions would  soon  be  no  more.  I  tell  you,  wife,  that 
the  liberties  of  our  country  would  be  safer  in  the  hands 
of  any  other  class  of  people  than  that  of  the  clergy." 

"  O  James !  how  can  you  say  ti  at,  when  the  very 
spirit  of  Christianity  is  that  of  liberty  ?  " 

"  The  liberty  to  do  what  they  claim  to  be  right." 


224  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Not  what  they  claim,  but  what  God  in  his  hoi"  book 
has  declared  to  be  right." 

"  A  book  which  one  class  of  men  declare  means  one 
thing,  and  another  class  that  it  teaches  right  the  oppo- 
site. Why,  even  Spiritualists  claim  that  the  Bible 
would  be  but  a  shell  if  Spiritualism  was  taken  out  of  it." 

"  Their  claiming  this  does  not  make  it  so." 

"  True,  wife  ;  but,  when  claims  conflict,  who  is  to 
decide  ?  It  will  never  do  for  one  class  to  have  or  hold 
pre-eminence  over  another :  each  must  decide  for  him- 
self, and  each  be  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind." 

Mrs.  Vale  sighed,  looked  at  her  little  one,  and  said, 
"  You  may  be  right,  James ;  but  it  seems  hard  that 
we  can  not  be  allowed  to  suppress  that  which  may  yet 
involve  our  own  children  in  ruin.  Could  I  have  my 
choice  between  seeing  my  child  a  corpse  and  having 
her  grow  up  a  Spiritualist,  I  should  say,  Let  her  die." 

"  And  the  Jew  would  say  the  same  thing  in  reference 
to  his  child's  becoming  a  Christian." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  talking  with  you,  James,"  said 
she,  with  a  touch  of  indignation  in  her  tone ;  "  for  such 
comparisons  are  simply  ridiculous.  We  know  that  we 
are  right,  —  know  that  the  Christian  religion  is  the  only 
hope  of  the  race.  Such  being  the  case,  there  is  some 
difference  between  enforcing  its  claims  and  that  of 
others." 

"  So  thought  the  founders  of  the  inquisition,  or,  to 
come  nearer  home,  those  who  hung  the  Quakers." 

"  James  !  James  !  are  you  turning  infidel  ?  " 

"  I  am  questioning ;  and,  the  more  I  question,  the  more 
I  am  mystified." 

"  God  help  you,  my  husband!  "  said  she  earnestly  ; 


MOST  FEARED.  225 

to  which  he  responded  with  a  fervent  "  Amen !  "  and 
then  there  was  silence  between  them. 

In  the  mean  time,  Porter  had  gone  to  Miss  Bell's  with 
the  letter  that  had  been  so  nearly  lost  to  him.  Finding 
several  friends  there,  he  gave  them  the  history  of  the 
way  in  which  it  came  into  his  hands,  and  then  read  to 
them  Alice's  account  of  the  manner  in  which  she  had 
been  deceived  into  visiting  Dr.  Denning's  establishment, 
of  her  feelings  when  she  found  that  they  had  left  her 
there  a  close  prisoner,  the  difficulty  which  she  had  in 
communicating  with  her  friends  after  accidentally  getting 
a  glimpse  of  them  from  a  forbidden  window,  to  which 
she  had  access  through  the  kindness  of  her  keeper,  and 
her  joy  at  the  recovery  of  her  freedom. 

This  was  read,  re-read,  and  commented  upon  ;  and 
twenty-four  hours  had  not  elapsed  ere  it  was  known 
all  through  the  place  that  Mrs.  Shepherd's  uncle  had 
taken  her  to  an  insane  asylum  because  she  was  a  Spirit- 
ualist, that  she  had  been  taken  from  there  by  friends 
from  the  East,  and  that  he  had  tried  to  prevent  her  com- 
municating with  her  friends  by  taking  her  letters  from 
the  office. 

It  was  in  vain  that  his  friends  urged  that  there  was 
no  evidence  of  the  latter :  the  idea  became  fixed  in  the 
minds  of  the  people,  and  could  not  be  eradicated  without 
proof  to  the  contrary.  The  result  of  all  this  was,  that 
those  who  sought  to  avoid  disgrace  by  doing  violence  to 
the  rights  of  another  found  themselves  enveloped  in 
such  an  atmosphere  of  distrust,  that  they  actually  sold 
their  property  at  a  sacrifice,  in  order  to  es  'ape  its  w  jth- 
erin<i  effect. 


226  ALICE  VALE. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 


O  foul  mouthed  slander  ! 
Myriads  of  souls  are  crying  from  the  ground 
Against  thee,  —  souls  filled  with  aspirations  high, 
But  all  too  weak  to  draw  thy  poisonous  fangs ; 
And  woman  more  than  all  has  suffered  thus. 

LICE  found  a  warm  welcome  in  the  littb 
village  from  which  she  had  been  absent 
less  than  two  years ;  and  yet  the  events 
that  had  been  crowded  therein  made  it 
seem  an  age  to  her.  "  I  have  lived  a  life- 
time since  I  left  you,"  she  said ;  "  and  if — 

'  Where  the  share  is  deepest  driven, 
The  best  fruits  grow,'  — 

my  future  life  ought  to  be  worth  something  to  myself 
and  to  humanity." 

Edward  Winchester  and  his  wife  were  interested  in 
the  new  phenomena,  and  circles  met  weekly  at  their 
house  for  the  purpose  of  investigation.  It  was  found 
that  Alice  was  to  be  both  a  test-medium  and  a  speaker. 
She  did  not  hesitate  to  walk  in  the  path  indicated,  and 
was  soon  quite  a  favorite  with  the  public  in  the  lattei 
capacity. 

But  this  did  not  seem  to  be  her  permanent  field  of 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  SLANDER.  227 

labor ;  for  the  pleadings  of  her  woman's  heart,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  earnestly-pressed  suit  of  another,  induced 
her,  some  eighteen  months  after,  to  take  upon  herself, 
for  the  second  time,  the  vows  of  marriage.  She  lost 
none  of  her  personal  freedom  as  Mrs.  Porter,  conse- 
quently went  before  the  public  occasionally,  that  is, 
when  she  chose  to  do  so ;  but  feeling,  as  every  true 
woman  does,  that  the  domestic  altar  is  the  most  sacred 
of  all  fanes,  she  did  not  choose  to  be  absent  long  enough 
to  let  its  fires  grow  dim.  But,  as  a  test-medium,  he.' 
home  became  the  resort  of  many. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected,  however,  that  she  could 
pursue  an  unpopular  course,  and  escape  unscathed. 
There  are  foes  for  every  one  to  face;  and  every  soul 
must  stem  the  flood  of  opposition  if  it  would  attain  to 
real  excellence.  The  cross  and  the  crown  of  thorns 
belong  not  alone  to  Jesus.  There  is  a  principle  in  na- 
ture which  makes  it  necessary  that  each  should  bear  the 
cross,  and  wear  the  crown  of  thorns,  ere  he  can  wear 
the  crown  of  glory. 

Alice  felt  this ;  and  when  scandal  made  itself  busy  with 
her  name,  or  foes  watched  for  her  feet  to  slide,  she  held 
firmly  on  her  way,  realizing  that  "  one  self-approving 
hour  "  outweighs  whole  years  of  condemnation  from 
those  who  do  not  understand  us  or  our  work.  It  is  a 
serious  thing  to  trifle  with  the  good  name  of  another : 
still,  there  were  some  incidents  that  occiirred  in  this  con- 
nection, in  her  experience,  which  were  so  laughable  they 
will  bear  repeating. 

Alice  had  an  engagement  to  fill  so'ne  forty  miles  from 
home  ;  and  Mr.  Porter  had  business  that  led  him  partly 
in  the  same  direction,  and  would  occupy  about  the  same 


228  ALICE   VALE. 

length  of  time  :  so  they  went  together  as  far  as  tl  ey 
could,  and  then  agreed  to  meet  at  the  same  place  on 
their  return.  Alice  reached  the  point  designated  seme 
two  hours  in  advance,  bringing  with  her  a  lady  lecturer, 
who  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at 
her  home. 

"  Well,  Alice,"  said  Porter,  as  soon  as  they  were 
comfortably  seated,  after  the  introductions  were  over, 
"  I  have  some  news  for  you." 

"  News  is  no  new  thing :  what  is  it  ?  "  she  replied 
quietly. 

"  Only  listen  to  her  now,  Miss  Holstein,"  said  Por- 
ter ;  "  so  quietly  indifferent,  and  still  as  anxious  to  hear 
as  can  be.  I  have  a  notion  not  to  tell  her  any  thing 
about  it." 

"  Oh,  do,  please  !  "  said  Alice,  putting  on  a  mock  look 
of  distress. 

"  Then,  since  you  so  desire  to  know,  we  have  parted : 
you  have  run  away  with  another  man." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  news  indeed :  when  did  it  happen  ?  " 

Just  a  moment  before,  the  landlady  had  come  into 
the  room,  and  taken  a  seat  by  the  window ;  but  her  pres- 
ence did  not  interfere  with  the  conversation  of  our 
party. 

"  That  is  what  I  did  not  learn ;  but  it  has  surely  hap- 
pened, for  the  man  who  told  me  said  that  my  brother 
told  him.  I  am  certainly  very  much  obliged  to  him  for 
giving  me  a  brother ;  only  I  should  like  to  see  him  soon, 
having  never  had  the  happiness  of  having  one  before." 

"  Please  stop  your  nonsense,  Joseph,  and  tell  us  just 
what  you  mean,"  said  Alice. 

"  Getting  anxious,  are  you  ?    Well,  the  night  I  left 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,   SLANDER.  229 

you,  I  stopped  with  a  farmer  some  two  miles  from  the 

little  village  of  S :  Deacon  Barnes,  they  call  him.  I 

gave  them  my  name ;  but  it  sect  is  that  they  did  not 
quite  understand  it.  After  supper,  the  conversation 
turned  upon  general  subjects;  and,  among  the  rest,  I 
mentioned  Spiritualism." 

u  The  deacon  had  been  rather  quiet  before  :  Jbut  this 
loosened  his  tongue,  and  for  at  least  half  an  hour  I  was 
regaled  with  an  account  of  the  follies  and  crimes  of 
Spiritualists ;  and,  among  others,  a  Mrs.  Porter  was 
named,  —  a  lecturer,  he  said,  who  had  recently  left  her 
husband,  and  gone  away  with  another  man. 

"  '  Indeed !  '  said  I ;  '  and  do  you  know  any  thing  of 
this  woman  ?  ' 

"  '  Not  personally  ;  but  my  information  is  as  direct  as 
this  :  her  husband's  brother  told  our  minister.' 

"  *  Did  he  give  any  thing  of  her  previous  history  ?  '  I 
asked ;  for  I  wished  to  ascertain  if  it  was  really  my  wife 
that  was  intended.  '  It  appears,'  he  continued,  '  that 
she  has  been  twice  married.  She  went  insane  after  the 
death  of  her  first  husband,  and  was  just  recovering  when 
she  fell  in  with  some  Spiritualists,  who  persuaded  her 
that  she  was  a  medium,  and  ought  to  go  into  the  field  as 
a  speaker.  Soon  after,  she  married  this  Porter;  but 
it  seems  that  she  has  found  some  one  else  that  she  likes 
better,  and  is  practicing  what  she  preaches  by  going  off 
with  him.' 

"  *  I  think  there  must  be  a  mistake  somewhere,'  said 
I.  '  The  history  of  two  persons  of  the  s£.nie  name  has 
evidently  been  mixed ;  for  it  can  not  be  the  lecturer 
who  has  thus  left  her  husband.' 

"  '  No  mistake  at  all,  sir  ;  no  mistake  at  all.  I  guess 
his  brother  would  know  if  any  body  did.' 


230  ALICE   VALE. 

"  '  You  are  sure,  then,  that  there  is  no  mis:ake  ? '  I 
questioned,  looking  him  full  in  the  eye. 

"  '  Quite  sure,'  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  '  Well,'  said  I,  '  this  is  the  strangest  thing  that  I 
ever  heard.  I  parted  with  my  wife  this  morning  with 
perfect  good  feeling  between  us  ;  and  I  never  had  a 
brother.' 

"  '  You  ! '  exclaimed  the  deacon,  starting  to  his  feet. 

"  '  Yes,  sir :  my  name  is  Porter,  and  it  is  my  wife 
of  whom  you  have  been  talking.'  Indeed,  Alice,  you 
would  have  laughed,  could  you  have  seen  the  conster- 
nation depicted  upon  the  man's  countenance." 

The  landlady  now  remarked  that  a  Mrs.  Porter,  liv- 
ing near  there,  had  recently  left  her  husband,  and  that 
was  probably  the  one  intended. 

"  Was  she  a  Spiritualist?  "  asked  Alice. 

"  She  was  not,  or,  if  so,  had  never  made  it  public." 

"  Why,  then,  do  people  couple  it  with  Spiritualism  ? 
why  must  I  bear  the  blame  of  her  acts  ?  " 

"  Because,  madam,  Spiritualism  has  that  tendency. 
It  is  a  part  of  their  teachings,  and  the  people  know  it," 
was  the  positive  answer. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  them  teach  such  things  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Holstien. 

"  I  never  go  after  such  teachers :  we  are  com- 
manded to  *  go  not  after  them,'  "  was  her  reply  ;  "  but  I 
can  tell  you  of  a  case  that  occurred  in  the  neighbor- 
hood Avhere  I  lived  before  I  came  here,  which  shows 
plainly  enough  what  the  tendency  is.  Still,  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  there  are  no  good  people  among  them," 
she  added,  seeming  for  the  first  time  to  remember  that 
she  was  talking  to  Spiritualists. 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  SLAKDER.  231 

"  Please  tell  us  of  the  facts  in  the  case  referred  to," 
said  Alice. 

Tuus  interrogated,  the  lady  said,  "  About  two  years 
since,  a  woman  came  into  our  neighborhood,  and  Com- 
menced lecturing  on  Spiritualism.  She  was  quite  pop- 
ular with  the  people  :  no  fault  could  be  found  with  what 
she  said,  for  she  denounced  evil  in  every  form.  Weeks 
passed  ;  and  there  was  hardly  a  village  within  fifty  miles, 
up  and  down  the  river,  where  she  had  not  spoken  one 
or  more  times;  and,  at  length,  she  came  close  to 
our  place,  and  stopped  with  a  family  by  the  name  of 
Stintson.  She  staid  there  about  a  week,  I  think  it  was, 
and  then  went  to  a  little  town  some  fifteen  miles  away, 
to  give  a  course  of  lectures. 

"  And  now  comes  the  sequel  to  all  her  fine  talk. 
Some  ten  days  afterward,  Stintson  got  angry  about  some 
trifle,  and  declared  that  he  would  not  stay  with  his  fam- 
ily any  longer ;  ordered  his  carriage,  drove  directly 
to  where  this  woman  was  staying,  and,  taking  her  with 
him,  went  some  forty  miles  up  the  river  ;  was  gone 
three  nights,  and  then  returned,  bringing  with  him  an- 
other of  their  speakers  to  help  make  peace  again  at 
home." 

"Was  the  last-named  speaker  a  woman?"  asked 
Porter. 

"  No  ;  but  his  wife  was  with  him,  and  report  says 
that  he  had  forsaken  his  own  family  for  her." 

"  Never  mind  what  report  says,"  remarked  Miss 
Holstien :  "  did  they  succeed  in  their  mission  of 
peace  ?  " 

"  It  was  thought  that  they  had  for  a  while  :  but  it  seems 
that  li  e  was  not  sincere ;  for,  after  a  few  months,  — 


232  ALICE  VALE. 

after  a  sufficient  length  of  time  to  enable  him  to  put  his 
business  into  good  shape,  —  then  he  left,  and  it  is  sup- 
posed that  they  are  together  somewhere." 

"  1  think,"  said  Miss  Holstien,  "  that  what  report 
says,  and  '  it  is  supposed,'  should  be  left  out  of  the  ques- 
tion entirely.  It  would  certainly  be  more  in  accord 
with  the  sweet  spirit  of  charity,  as  neither  of  the  above 
statements  is  true." 

Alice  and  Porter  looked  up  in  surprise  ;  while  the 
woman,  who  had  been  so  positive  in  her  assertions, 
asked,  with  an  evident  trepidation  in  her  voice,  "  Are 
you  acquainted  with  the  parties  ?  " 

"  With  one  of  them  intimately,  and  with  the  others 
slightly,"  was  her  reply.  "  I  have  known  that  speaker 
for  years ;  and  she  would  sooner  sever  her  right  arm 
from  her  body  than  to  take  another  woman's  husband 
from  her." 

"  How,  then,  do  you  account  for  the  facts  in  the 
case  ?  " 

"Madam,  you  have  not  given  the  facts,  —  only  a 
very  distorted  version  of  them." 

"Will  you  please  give  the  correct  version,  miss?" 
said  the  lady  with  a  sneer. 

"  I  can,"  was  the  firm  response  ;  "  but,  first,  let  me 
say,  that  any  man  who  would  leave  his  family  as  you 
have  represented  this  one's  doing  —  that  is,  with  no 
provocation  but  his  own  fancy  —  is  just  no  man  at  all, 
is  worth  no  woman's  attention.  Secondly,  the  woman 
of  whom  you  say,  *  It  is  supposed  that  she  is  with  him,' 
knows  no  more  of  his  whereabouts  than  if  she  had  never 
seen  him." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  inform  me  how  you  know  these 
things  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  SLANDER.  233 

"  I  will ;  for  I  am  that  woman,  and  ought  to  know 
the  facts  in  the  case." 

Porter  and  his  wife  were  somewhat  surprised  at  this 
announcement,  and  so  amused  that  they  could  hardly 
restrain  their  mirth  ;  but  the  landlady's  confusion  was 
pitiable  to  behold.  She  tried  to  apologize,  but  was  pre- 
vented by  Miss  Holstien's  saying,  "  Only  listen  to  my 
statements,  and  be  as  faithful  in  reporting  them  as  you 
have  those  of  the  other  side,  and  it  is  all  I  ask. 

"  When  I  was  at  Mr.  Stintson's,  I  had  not  the  most 
distant  idea  that  there  was  the  least  trouble  between  him 
and  his  wife,  or  ever  had  been.  True,  there  was  one 
thing  that  annoyed  me  somewhat;  and  that  was  this  :  I 
had  one  appointment,  some  seven  miles  distant,  to  which 
he  took  me,  neither  his  wife  nor  daughter  accompanying 
us.  But,  as  they  had  attended  my  other  lectures,  I 
accepted  their  reasons  for  not  going  as  sufficient,  and 
put  my  unpleasant  feelings  aside. 

"  When  I  left  there,  I  did  not  know  certainly  that  I 
should  visit  the  place  from  whence  he  took  me  at  the 
time  you  tell  me  that  the  public  inferred  so  much ;  and 
as  I  had  held  m>  communication  with  him,  if  he  knew 
that  I  was  there,  which  he  said  he  did  not,  he  learned 
it  from  some  other  source.  I  had  finished  my  engage- 
ment, and  was  to  go  that  day  to  another  point ;  the 
gentleman  who  was  to  take  me  being  already  in  town. 

"  I  was  nearly  ready  to  start  when  he  came  in, 
bringing  Mr.  Stintson  with  him.  '  I  have  but  a  mo- 
ment to  stop,'  said  Stintson ;  '  for  I  must  go  to  Elder 
Whitney's  to-night ;  but,  learning  that  you  were  here,  I 
thought  I  would  call.' 

"  '  Going  up  to  the  elder's  ? '  said  I.    '  If  I  had  no  ap- 


234  ALICE   VALE. 

pointment  out,  I  would  go  with  you,  if  you  would  take 
me  ;  for  I  have  promised  them  that  I  will  visit  them  be- 
fore I  leave  this  part  of  the  country,  and  I  can  not  get 
within  six  or  seven  miles  of  there  by  public  convey- 
ance.' 

"  '  I  can  take  you  just  as  well  as  not  if  you  wish  to 
go,'  was  his  reply ;  '  but  you  will  not  have  much  time 
to  visit,  as  I  am  going  on  purpose  to  bring  them  back 
with  me ;  for  their  signatures  are  necessary  to  complete 
a  business  transaction  that  I  have  on  hand.' 

"  '  But  I  can  not  go,'  said  I,  '  as  I  have  an  appoint- 
ment to  fill  to-night.' 

"  The  other  gentleman  then  said  that  he  would  with- 
draw that  appointment  for  me,  and  I  could  fill  it  when 
I  returned. 

'"I  do  not  know  as  I  shall  return  this  way  at  all,' 

I  replied ;  '  for,  when  I  go,  I  have  business  at  M , 

a  hundred  miles  farther  north,  and  I  may  wish  to  go 
east  from  there.' 

" '  If  that  is  the  case,'  said  he,  '  you  had  better  go 
now :  for  speakers  are  not  any  too  well  paid ;  and,  if 
you  go  that  far  with  Mr.  Stintson,  it  will  save  you  as 
much  in  stage-fare  as  you  would  get  to-night.' 

"  'How  soon  can  you  be  ready  ?  '  asked  Mr.  Stintson. 

"  '  In  ten  minutes,'  I  replied  ;  '  for  I  was  nearly  reacly 
to  start  for  the  Grove  when  you  came  in.' 

"  *  Well,'  said  he,  '  I  can  wait  that  long ;  for  I  must 
call  at  Wilson's  store  a  moment  before  I  can  start.' 

"  And  that  is  how  I  came  to  take  that  ride  with  Mr. 
Stintson.  We  had  gone  several  miles,  chatting  as  we 
went,  upon  various  subjects,  when  he  turned  to  me,  and 
said, — 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  SLANDER.  235 

" '  You  will  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am 
arranging  business  to  leave  my  family.' 

"  '  Leave  your  family  ! '  said  I. 

" '  Yes :  there  has  been  no  peace  for  me  there  for 
years ;  but  pride  has  kept  the  trouble  hidden.  I  can 
bear  it  no  longer,  and  will  not.  I  shall  leave  the  farm 
to  them,  take  what  ready  money  I  have  and  my  horses, 
and  go  where  I  shall  not  be  found  fault  with  all  the 
time.' 

"  '  Mr.  Stintson,'  said  I,  '  had  I  had  the  most  distant 
idea  of  this,  I  would  not  have  come  one  step  with  you ; 
for  do  you  know  that  I  shall  have  to  bear  the  blame  of 
this  ?  ' 

" '  I  did  not  think  of  that,'  he  replied,  '  or  I  would 
have  made  some  excuse  for  not  bringing  you ;  but  it  is 
too  late  now.  Still,  I  do  not  see  how  they  can  lay  the 
blame  upon  you :  you  have  had  nothing  to  do  in  the 
matter.' 

"  '  True,'  I  replied :  '  but  the  public  can  not  know  that ; 
and,  if  you  persist  in  leaving  your  family  now,  you  will 
do  me  an  irreparable  wrong.  Were  I  a  Methodist  or  a 
Presbyterian,  it  would  be  different ;  but  people  are  watch- 
ing Spiritualists,  expecting,  hoping,  to  see  them  stumble, 
and,  with  the  least  excuse  for  believing  evil  of  them,  they 
are  certain  to  do  so.'  When  we  reached  the  Elder's, 
the  matter  was  talked  over  again  ;  and  both  he  and  his 
wife  joined  with  me  in  entreating  Stintson  to  stay  with 
his  family,  but  with  what  result  I  never  knew.  I  have 
seen  none  of  them  since  :  and,  the  Elder  moving  away 
shortly  after,  I  lost  their  address,  consequently  could  not 
write  to  them. 

"  I  did  net  wish  to  write  to  others  about  it,  as  I  did 


236  ALICE   VALE. 

not  know  but  the  trouble  was  so  settled  that  other  par- 
ties knew  nothing  of  it.  I  hoped  that  it  was." 

"  How  happened  it,  Miss  Holstien,  that  Mr.  Stintson 
was  gone  three  nights,  when,  according  to  your  state- 
ment, there  was  no  necessity  for  his  being  absent  but 
one." 

"  I  am  not  Mr.  Stintson's  keeper,  madam,  and  can 
not,  therefore,  be  held  responsible  for  his  acts ;  but  I  can 
tell  you  what  I  know  upon  the  subject.  I  staid  at  the 
Elder's  only  one  night.  But  I  heard  him  tell  Mr.  Stint- 
son  that  they  could  not  possibly  leave  before  Saturday; 
and  Mr.  Stintson  replied,  '  I  shall  not  go  home  till  you 
and  your  wife  go  with  me,  if  I  have  to  stay  a  week.' 
This  was  on  Thursday ;  and,  if  he  waited  till  Saturday, 
he  would  have  to  stay  two  nights  longer." 

"  Strange,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Porter,  "  upon  what  a  small 
foundation  a  four-story  report  can  be  raised." 

"  And  stranger  still,"  added  Alice,  "  that  each  addition 
upward  can  increase  in  size,  and  still  the  structure  re- 
main firm." 

"  And  do  you  intend  to  say  that  all  the  cases  report- 
ed of  Spiritualism's  breaking  up  families  can  be  explained 
as  readily,  have  as  little  foundation  in  truth,  as  these 
have  ?  "  asked  the  landlady. 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  Miss  Holstien  ;  "  but  I  do  say,  that, 
as  far  as  my  observation  goes,  it  can  be  said  of  at  least 
two  out  of  every  three ;  and  if  you  will  take  cases  of 
this  kind  that  occur  in  the  church,  and  multiply  them 
by  three,  I  think  the  number  thus  attained  would  star- 
tle the  most  unthinking." 

"  You  will  acknowledge  that  divorces  are  more  com- 
mon now  than  formerly,  I  presume." 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  SLANDER.  237 

"  That  may  be  true.  I  think  it  is  ;  indeed,  I  know 
it,  though  I  have  not  examined  the  statistics  on  this 

O 

point :  and  there  is  a  cause  for  it  that  surface  thinkers 
do  not  perceive ;  and,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say, 
they  attribute  it  to  the  influence  of  Spiritualism." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  it,  Miss  Holstien  ?  " 

"  In  the  same  manner  that  I  account  for  the  swelling 
of  the  buds  in  spring-time.  There  is  a  new  life,  the 
vital  tides  of  an  increased  growth,  flowing  through  the 
veins  of  humanity ;  and  the  old  channels  are  too  circum- 
scribed for  its  expression.  The  old  conservative  condi- 
tion, like  the  bark  upon  the  tree,  resists  this  tendency  to 
expansion,  until  it  becomes  so  strong  that  it  forces  itself 
through  the  very  walls  of  its  prison  to  reach  the  light. 

"  It  is  true  of  the  human,  as  of  the  vegetable,  that 
many  a  promising  bud,  many  a  beautiful  blossom,  will 
blast,  will  come  to  naught,  under  the  influence  of  wind, 
storm,  or  unseasonable  frosts.  And  it  is  equally  true 
that  the  tree  of  humanity  will  never  give  us  the  leaves 
that  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations  till  woman  holds 
a  place  in  society  where  she  is  not  subject  to  man,  till 
she  stands  before  the  law  as  his  equal,  with  equal  rights 
as  a  citizen.  Man  may  continue  to  be  the  bark,  the 
inclosing  rind,  protecting  the  body  of  the  tree  from  de- 
struction ;  but  when  he  asserts  the  same  power  over  the 
buds  and  blossoms  in  the  time  of  their  appearance,  will 
not  give  them  an  equal  right  with  himself  to  sunlight 
and  air,  his  claims  are  certain  to  be  disputed,  *nd  not 
only  disputed,  but  set  aside." 

£  Woman's  rights,  I  perceive." 

"  Not  woman's  rights,  madam,  but  human  rights  ;  for 
the  rights  of  one  portion  of  the  race  can  not  be  violated 
without  wrong  to  each  and  all." 


238  ALICE   VALE. 

"  You  believe,  then, — you  Spiritualists, — that  man  and 
wife  have  the  right  to  separate  if  they  can  not  agree." 

"  Can  not  agree  and  will  not  agree  are  two  different 
things  entirely :  and,  if  it  was  only  among  Spiritualists 
that  this  state  of  things  existed,  there  might  be  some 
show  of  justice  in  your  accusations ;  but  you  have  only 
to  look  at  society  to  find  this  spirit  pervading  all  its 
ranks.  A  friend  of  mine  once  examined  the  records  of 
his  county  to  learn  how  many  of  the  divorces  granted 
were  to  parties  known  to  be  Spiritualists ;  and,  of  eighty, 
there  were  only  four  of  this  class." 

"  Well,"  said  Porter,  taking  out  his  watch,  u  it's  my 
honest  opinion  that  there  is  not  so  much  difference  be- 
tween Jew  and  Gentile,  after  all;  and  I  see  that  it  is 
nearly  train-time.  Miss  Holstien,  if  you  will  go  home 
with  us,  I  will  try  and  not  run  away  with  you." 

"  No  need  for  that,  Mr.  Porter,"  was  her  playful  re- 
ply ;  "  for,  as  your  wife  has  left  you  for  another,  you  are 
entitled  to  a  divorce." 

*'  True,  true  :  I  did  not  think  of  that.  Come,  then, 
we  will  go ;  and  Mrs.  Porter  can  follow  on,  repentant, 
or  go  and  find  her  other  man  ;  "  and,  catching  Miss  Hol- 
stien by  the  arm,  he  hurried  her  out  of  the  house.  But 
Alice  was  too  quick  for  him ;  and,  before  he  could  close 
the  door  between  them,  she  was  hanging  upon  his  other 
arm. 

"  Oh,  these  old  wives  !  it  is  impossible  to  get  clear  of 
them,"  said  he,  looking  at  her  with  an  expression  of 
tenderness  that  belied  the  light  raillery  of  his  words. 

"  Free  lovers,"  said  the  landlady,  looking  after  tl^em 
with  a  sneering  expression  upon  her  otherwise  fine 
features.  But  her  distrust  could  not  penetrate  the 


FURTHER  EXPERIENCES,  SLANDER. 


239 


armor  of  their  conscious  rectitude.  It  stung  only  her- 
self; for  while  they,  seated  in  the  cars  that  were 
bearing  them  swiftly  to  their  destination,  chatted  away 
the  hour  that  intervened,  with  joy  in  the  present  and 
high  hopes  for  the  future,  she  went  about  sighing,  as 
she  dwelt  upon  the  dark  shades  of  the  picture  formed 
by  her  own  imagination. 


240  ALICE  VALE. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

INQUIRIES,    LIFE'S    PROBLEMS,    ETC. 
'Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid." — Bible. 

FEW  days  after  the  occurrence  above 
related,  Alice  was  surprised  by  a  visit 
from  her  uncle.  He  was  evidently  much 
embarrassed  ;  for  they  had  not  met  till 
now,  since  the  time  that  he  had  so  cruelly 
deceived  and  betrayed  her  into  the  hands  of  Dr.  Den- 
ning. The  doctor  and  his  wife,  as  I  have  already 
stated,  had  investigated  the  facts  and  philosophy  of 
Spiritualism,  till,  like  Paul  of  old,  they  were  now  the 
zealous  advocates  of  that  which  they  had  once  so 
strenuously  opposed. 

James  Vale  and  his  wife  had  learned  this,  the  indi- 
rect result  of  the  course  they  had  taken  in  incarcerating 
Alice  ;  and  this,  together  with  other  influences  brought 
to  bear  upon  them  from  time  to  time,  had  set  them  to 
questioning  also.  But,  though  losing  faith  in  the  old 
forms  of  thought,  they  were  not  prepared,  as  yet,  to 
accept  the  new.  They  longed  to  recognize  therein  all 
that  was  claimed  by  its  advocates,  but  found  many 
things  to  stagger  them,  even  at  the  very  threshold. 

There  was    a   recklessness  of   speech  and   manner, ' 
a  carelessness  as  to  life-conduct,  in  many  of  its  warmest 
defenders,  which,  it  seemed  to  them,  illy  comported  with 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETC.  241 

the  claim  of  holding  communion  with  the  angels. 
And  there  were  many  other  things  which  made  them, 
and  especially  Mrs.  Vale,  fear  to  walk  in  what  might 
prove  to  be  a  forbidden  path.  While  talking  this 
matter  over  one  evening  Mr.  Vale  said,  — 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Alice,  wife.  She  can  explain 
these  things  if  any  one  can  ;  and,  as  to  the  wrong,  you 
will  never  find  her  doing  or  advocating  that  which  she 
believes  to  be  such." 

"  But  belief,  my  dear,  can  not  change  the  character 
of  an  act,  as  you  well  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Vale. 

"  That  may  be,  so  far  as  the  act  itself  is  concerned  ; 
that  is,  the  results  of  the  act  as  it  regards  physical  well- 
being,  or  otherwise :  but  the  moral  character  of  any 
and  every  act  is  certainly  determined  by  the  motive. 
In  reference  to  Alice,  her  experience  in  this  matter  is 
certainly  greater  than  my  own,  and  she  ought  to  be  able 
to  give  me  some  light  on  the  subject.  Still,  though  I 
may  think  it  wise  to  question  her,  she  must  convince 
my  judgment  before  I  shall  accept  her  conclusions.  So, 
little  wife,  never  fear  for  me  ;  for  I  certainly  shall  not  go 
it  blind." 

"  No,  husband :  I  think  you  would  be  more  likely  to 
shut  your  eyes  against  the  light,  than  to  consent  to  walk 
where  there  was  none,  judging  from  past  experience. 
However,  if  you  wish  to  visit  Alice,  I  have  no  objection  ; 
but  how  do  you  suppose  she  will  receive  you  after  what 
has  passed  ?  " 

"  Like  her  own  self.  If  she  holds  hardness  toward 
me,  I  shall  know  that  her  new  theories  have  made  her 
worse,  instead  of  better,  and  shall,  of  course,  have 
nothing  further  to  do  in  that  direction." 

16 


242  ALICE   VALE. 

Alice  was  very  much  surprised ;  but  slie  met  him 
cordially,  never  once  showing,  by  either  look  or  manner, 
that  she  felt  a  shade  of  unkind  feeling'  toward  him  on 
account  of  the  past.  Indeed,  she  did  not  feel  any,  — 
neither  against  him  nor  those  who  had  acted  in  concert 
with  him ;  for  she  realized  most  fully  that  they  knew 
not  what  they  did. 

Porter  was  differently  constituted,  and  could  not  feel 
just  as  Alice  did.  There  was  a  little  bitterness  in  his 
heart,  as  he  thought  of  the  past ;  but  for  her  sake  he 
did  not  show  it :  consequently,  the  proud  spirit  of 
James  Vale  was  even  more  chafed  by  the  reception  he 
met,  than  if  a  portion  of  that  which  he  felt  he  deserved 
had  been  meted  out  to  him.  Nevertheless,  he  had 
come  for  a  purpose,  and  he  intended  to  accomplish  it : 
so,  when  the  evening  meal  was  over,  he  turned  to  Alice, 
and  said,  — 

"  I  have  come  here,  Alice,  to  question  you  about  your 
Spiritualism  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  uncle,"  she  replied :  "  proceed  with 
your  questioning,  and  I  will  answer  to  the  best  of  my 
ability." 

"  Well,  then,  in  the  first  place,  I  wish  to  know  why 

so  many  d d  fools  and  d d  knaves  are  attracted 

to  it  ?  " 

Alice  smiled  :  "  Why  do  patients  whose  diseases  are 
the  most  virulent,  or  whose  lungs  are  the  r  earest  con- 
sumed,—  why  do  such  always  go  to  the  most  noted 
physicians,  uncle  ?" 

"  Sharp  as  ever,  you  little  Yankee :  we  are  not  talk- 
ing of  hospitals." 

"  Not  of  hospitals,  but  of  one  great  moral  hospital, 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETC.  243 

such  as  society  is,  and  will  be  till  thoroughly  renovated. 
And  it  is  to  this  end  that  the  true  physician  directs  his 
attention,  —  to  the  removing  of  the  causes  of  disease 
more  than  to  dealing  with  effects.  Wherever  the 
best  physician  is,  there  will  the  sick  congregate  in  the 
greatest  numbers.  This  is  as  true  morally  as  it  is 
physically." 

"  So  you  think  that  Spiritualism  is  a  better  physician 
than  the  religion. of  Jesus?  " 

"  I  believe  that  Spiritualism  proper  is  the  religion  of 
Jesus ;  and  not  only  his,  but  of  all  the  lovers  of  the 
race  who  have  had  a  zeal  according  to  knowledge." 

"  Spiritualism  proper  ?  " 

"  Yes :  when  accumulated  snows  have  been  melted 
by  the  warmth  of  the  sun  in  spring-time,  or  when 
heavy  rains  have  fallen,  thus  swelling  the  body  of  a 
stream  to  treble  its  size,  you  certainly  would  not  call  the 
driftwood,  or  the  soil  that  is  thus  dislodged  and  carried 
forward,  making  the  crystal  waters  turbid  with  the  mix- 
ture, —  you  would  not  call  this,  these  foreign  ingredi- 
ents, a  portion  of  the  stream  proper,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not ;  and  the  same  can  be  said  of  the 
Christian  religion." 

"  True,  most  true,  uncle  :  therefore  I  say  that  Spirit- 
ualism proper  and  the  religion  of  Jesus  are  the  same. 
But  what  is  called  the  religion  of  Jesus  is  a  far  different 
thing.  The  idea  of  three  Gods  in  one,  vicarious  atone- 
ment, an  eternal  hell,  &c.,  did  not  originate  with  him, 
are  no  part  of  his  religion.  These  were  all  taken  from 
heathen  mythology,  —  were  extant  long  before  his  ad- 
vent upon  earth,  therefore  can  not  be  called  his  in  any 
especial  sense." 


244  ALICE   VALE. 

"  What,  then,  do  you  recognize  as  the  distinguishing 
feature  of  his  teachings  ?  " 

11  The  pre-eminent  value  of  man  ;  God  pledged  to 
the  welfare  of  man,  and  not  man  sacrificed  to  God; 
the  sahbath  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the  sabbath  ; 
and,  carrying  out  the  same  principle,  the  Bible  for  man, 
and  not  man  for  the  Bible :  in  a  word,  that  man  is  the 
lord  and  master,  and  all  things  his  servants,  his  tools 
with  which  he  is  to  work  out  his  own  salvation." 

"  But  suppose  he  cuts  his  fingers  with  these  tools : 
what  then  ?  " 

"  Which  he  is  pretty  sure  to  do  till  he  learns  to  use 
them  skillfully :  he  must  bear  the  smart,  and  learn  the 
lesson  intended." 

"  All  this  is  very  well,  Alice ;  but  somehow  you  have 
led  me  from  the  track,  —  have  so  covered  up  the  kna- 
very and  folly  of  professed  Spiritualists  under  the  mantle 
of  general  principles,  that  I  had  forgotten  the  main 
question." 

"  I  have  not  intended  this,  uncle :  let  us  come  back 
to  the  point,  then." 

"  Well,  to  state  my  first  question  more  definitely,  why 
do  so  many  Spiritualists  swear,  lie,  break  the  sabbath, 
&c.  ?  Why  are  they  so  reckless  of  sacred  things  ?  " 

"  To  be  reckless  of  sacred  things,  and  to  disregard 
what  some  one  else  considers  as  such,  are  two  things 
entirely ;  and,  as  to  swearing,  lying,  and  the  like,  I  sup- 
pose those  who  do  such  things,  do  them  because  they 
like  to." 

"  Because  they  like  to !  " 

"  Yes :  if  a  person  really  desires  to  do  an  act,  he  is 
in  the  moral  condition  indicated  by  the  status  of  that 
act,  whether  he  performs  it  or  not." 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETP.  245 

"  Then  you  would  have  people  do  just  what  they 
want  to  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  people  do  right  from  a  love  of  the 
right." 

"  But  suppose  they  do  not  love  the  right  ?  " 

"  Then  they  can  not  do  the  right,  in  any  true  sense 
of  that  term  ;  but  they  will  love  the  right  if  properly 
instructed." 

"  How  do  you  show  that,  Alice  ?  " 

"  From  an  axiom  that  is  as  true  of  morals  as  are  the 
axioms  of  mathematics.  Do  not  men  and  women,  if 
left  unrestrained,  always  take  the  course  that  seemeth 
to  them  best  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  really  don't  know  but  they  do ;  but  they 
make  some  awful  mistakes." 

"  Yes  ;  and  so  do  children  in  following  out  their  own 
inclinations.  Sometimes  it  is  best  to  restrain  them,  and 
sometimes  it  is  better  to  let  them  have  their  own  way 
for  the  sake  of  the  lesson.  Still,  in  each  case,  the  prin- 
ciple is  the  same  :  both  desire  happiness ;  both  are  igno- 
rant of  the  mode  of  obtaining  it." 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  the  love  of 
right." 

"  Do  you  believe  it  possible  for  human  beings  to  de- 
sire their  own  misery  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  —  that  is,  misery  for  its  own  sake  : 
though  they  may  desire  it  for  the  sake  of  the  happiness 
that  may  accrue  from  the  results." 

' '  True  ;  but  it  is  the  happiness  that  is  desired,  while 
the  misery  is  only  endured.  This  proves  that  self-love 
is  the  broad  foundation  upon  which  the  structure  of 
universal  love  must  be  reared.  This  is  the  foundation 


246  ALICE  VALE. 

that  is  already  laid  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  and 
man  has  no  power  to  remove  it,  no  power  to  put  another 
in  its  place.  Thus,  you  see,, my  dear  uncle,  that,  as  it  is 
impossible  for  a  man  to  desire  his  own  misery,  so  must 
he  naturally  love  that  which  will  secure  his  happiness, 
just  as  fast  as  he  realizes  what  it  is.  But  he  must  real- 
ize this  for  himself,  and  not  another  for  him." 

"  You  mean  to  say,  then,  that  he  will  love  the  right 
just  as  soon  as  he  truly  learns  that  only  through  the" 
right  can  such  happiness  as  the  soul  seeks  be  his  ?  " 

"I  do,  uncle ;  and  not  only  this :  he  can  no  more 
help  loving  it  than  two  and  two  can  help  being  four 
when  placed  together." 

"  Why,  then,  if  man's  sins  are  the  result  of  igno- 
rance, does  God  punish  him  for  committing  them  ?  " 

"  He  does  not :  man  punishes  ;  God  teaches." 

"  Very  emphatic  teaching,  I  should  think,  —  some  of 
it  at  least." 

"  True  ;  but  if  the  burning  of  a  finger  so  teaches  us 
the  nature  of  fire,  that  we,  by  that  means,  are  able  to 
save  the  whole  hand,  is  not  the  lesson  a  cheap  one  ?  " 

"  That  may  be  true ;  but  I  tell  you,  Alice,  I  believe 
that  Spiritualism  makes  people  worse  instead  of  better. 
I  have  known  good  church-members,  men  who  had  the 
confidence  of  all  who  knew  them,  —  I  have  known  such 
become  Spiritualists,  and  then  become  reckless  ;  families 
broken  up,  wives  forsaken,  and  home  ruined  generally. 
Now,  if  these  things  are  not  the  result  of  Spiritualism, 
why  did  they  not  occur  before  such  individuals  came 
under  the  influence  of  its  teachings  ?  " 

"  Because  of  fear.  People  often  desire  to  do  things 
that  they  dare  not  perform." 


INQUIRIES,  LIFERS  PROBLEMS,  ETC  247 

"  Is  it  not  better  that  we  should  be  restrained  by  fear 
than  not  at  all  ?  " 

"  For  our  external  interest,  yes ;  for  our  spiritual 
good,  no." 

"  How  do  you  show  that?  " 

"  From  the  fact,  that,  so  long  as  one  desires  to  do  a 
thing,  he  believes  that  it  is  good  for  him,  that  it  will 
conduce  to  his  happiness ;  and,  till  he  learns  the  reverse, 
he  can  not  cease  to  desire  it.     This  being  true,  it  is  bet- 
ter for  him  to  learn  it  from  experience  than  not  at  all." 
"  And  what  is  the  harm  if  he  never  learns  it  ?  " 
"  No  harm,  only  that  there  is  a  bar  across  the  path- 
way of  progress  which  he  will  never  get  over." 

"  I  should  call  that  doing  evil  that  good  may  come." 
"  And  I  should  call  it  rooting  out  the  evil  that  good 
may  take  its  place.     Is  not  the  latter  the  most  reason- 
able version  of  the  point  at  issue,  uncle  ?  " 

"  You  may  be  right,  Alice ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
this  would  be  a  strange  world  if  everybody  did  just 
what  they  wanted  to." 

"  And  how  much  worse  would  you  be,  uncle  ?  " 
"  A  good  way,  that,  to  find  out  just  what  your  uncle 
would  like  to  do,  puss." 

"  Isn't  it,  though  ?     Would  you  like  to  steal,  uncle  ?  " 
"  No,  Alice  :  I  never  felt  the  least  desire  to  steal."' 
"  Then  you  have  no  occasion  to  learn  better.     Would 
you  like  to  break  the  marriage  covenant  by  sleeping  with 
your  neighbor's  wife  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  :  I  should  scorn  to  do  such  an  act." 
"  Do  you  think  you  would  like  to  do  these  things  if 
you  should  become  a  Spiritualist  ?  " 

"  Not  I :  if  becoming  a  Spiritualist  involved  the  love 
of  these  things,  I  should  never  be  one  " 


- 
248  ALICE  VALE. 

"  But  suppose,  uncle,  that  you  did  desire  to  do  ttese 
things,  and  believed  that  Spiritualism  sanctioned  them: 
what  then  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  very  likely  to  advocate  its  teachings." 

"  Advocate  what  you  supposed  to  be  its  teachings, 
you  mean." 

"  Well,  what  I  supposed  to  be  its  teachings." 

"  Can  you  not  see,  then,  how  others  who  do  desire  to 
do  the  things  that  you  repudiate,  —  can  you  not  see  how 
they  might  mistake  the  freedom  to  burn  their  fingers  if 
they  wished  —  or,  in  other  words,  the  privilege  of  learn- 
ing the  evil  of  these  things  for  themselves,  —  as  a  sanc- 
tion of  the  wrong  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  can,  Alice  ;  but  I  never  looked  at  it  in 
that  light  before." 

"  And  do  you  not  know  that  those  who  expect  to  re- 
ceive the  greatest  benefit  from  any  given  thing  will,  in 
accordance  with  the  law  of  self-love,  be  its  most  earnest 
advocates  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  most  earnest  advo- 
cates of  Spiritualism  are  all  of  this  class  ?  " 

"  No,  uncle  ;  for  there  are  those  who  so  understand  the 
real  principles  thereof,  that  they  can  not  help  but  advo- 
cate it  with  earnestness.  But  there  are  those  who  are 
loud  in  its  advocacy,  only  because  they  believe  that  it 
gives  them  license.  When  such  learn,  through  ex- 
perience, that  every  indulgence  has  its  price,  —  a  price 
that  must  be  paid  in  suffering,  even  to  the  utmost  far- 
thing, —  then  they  will  either  forsake  the  ranks  of 
Spiritualism,  or  they  will  advocate  it  from  far  different 
motives.  In  a  word,  Spiritualism  is  the  religion  of  man- 
hood,—  a  religion  that  teaches  to  walk  in  one's  own 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETC.  249 

strength,  instead  of  being  carried  like  babes  in  the  arms 
of  a  nurse  :  and,  if  babies  rush  into  its  ranks,  they  must 
necessarily  stumble ;  but,  in  doing  so,  they  will  event- 
ually learn  to  walk,  even  if  they  should  have  to  go 
back  to  the  arms  of  the  nurse  for  a  while." 

"  But  all  this  refers  to  the  philosophy,  to  the  moral 
bearings,  of  Spiritualism :  what  of  its  mediums,  of  the 
law  of  communication  ?  " 

"  Did  you  ever  see  an  individual  acting  as  interpreter 
between  two  persons  of  different  nationalities,  uncle  ?  " 

"  I  never  happened  to  witness  such  a  thing,  as  I  recol- 
lect ;  but  then  I  know  that  it  is  often  done." 

"  In  order  to  do  this,  the  one  interpreting  must  un- 
derstand both  languages." 

"  Certainly,  certainly." 

u  Do  you  not  know  that  no  one  is  able,  till  they  have 
learned,  'to  understand  even  one  language,  much  less 
two?" 

"  Why,  of  course  I  do :  what  is  the  use  of  all  these 
foolish  questions,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Wait  and  see.  Do  you  not  know  that  some  persons 
are,  from  birth,  more  disposed  to  the  acquisition  of  one 
kind  of  knowledge,  and  some  to  another ;  for  instance, 
some  learn  to  sing  and  play  with  the  utmost  ease,  and 
others  take  as  naturally  to  mathematics  ?  " 

"  It  is  too  evident  to  be  questioned." 

"  Then  those  whose  natural  forte  was  language  would 
make  the  best  interpreters,  the  best  mediums  of  com- 
munication between  two  individuals  of  different  lan- 
guages :  would  they  not  ?  " 

"  Self-evident  truth,  that  even  a  child  couh  under- 
stand." 


250  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Well,  uncle,  mediumship,  the  /aw  of  communica- 
tion between  two  worlds,  two  states  of  existence,  is  just 
as  natural  as  are  the  laws  which  govern  the  above  self- 
evident  truths,  as  you  call  them.  This  law  must  be 
learned,  and  the  conditions  complied  with  in  one  case 
as  well  as  in  the  other ;  and  there  are  individuals  whose 
particular  forte,  power,  gift,  or  whatever  you  may 
choose  to  call  it,  lies  in  this  direction,  as  well  as  those 
who  are  natural  musicians,  mechanics,  &c.  Such  per- 
sons are  called  mediums." 

"  This  may  be  true.  If  so,  it  seems  to  me  that  me- 
diums should  be  very  good,  much  better  than  other 
people  ;  and  yet  the  evidence  is  right  the  reverse." 

"  How  ?  worse  than  others  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  so,  Alice." 

"  Have  you  been  personally  acquainted  with  many?  " 

"  No :  I  have  never  talked  with  any  but  yourself  and 
one  other." 

"  Have  judged  from  common  report,  then.  Fie,  fie, 
uncle !  I  thought  you  had  better  sense  than  that." 

"  But  has  common  report  no  foundation  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  that  it  has  two  strong  pillars :  the  first 
is  the  claim  which  you  have  already  made,  that  they 
should  be  better  than  others  ;  and  the  other  rests  on  the 
fact  that  they  do  many  things  which  do  not  properly 
belong  to  them  as  individuals,  they  being  simply  the 
channels  through  which  others  act." 

"  But  why  should  they  not  be  better  than  others  ? 
It  seems  to  me,  that,  if  I  could  talk  with  angels,  I  would 
never  do  any  thing  wrong." 

"  Why,  then,  do  wrong  now  ?  You  talk  with  angels 
every  day." 

"I!" 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETC.  251 

*'  Yes,  uncle :  what "  is  it  that  leaves  the  body  at 
death  ?  " 

"  The  spirit,  I  suppose." 

"  Could  a  spirit  leave  the  body  if  it  were  not  in  the 
body  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not ;  but  I  see  what  you  are  aiming  at : 
you  mean  to  say  that  it  is  spirits  who  have  left  the  body 
that  mediums  talk  with,  and  spirits  who  are  still  in  the 
body  that  we  talk  with  ;  and,  if  we  call  one  class  angels, 
the  other  class  must  be  angels  too." 

"  Well,  is  not  the  claim  a  just  one  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  but  it  is  ;  still,  we  have  not  been 
accustomed  to  looking  at  things  in  this  light,  and  it  is 
hard  to  realize  that  it  is  so." 

"  True,  uncle  :  we  have  been  in  the  habit  of  using  a 
mental  magnifying  glass  when  thinking  of  those  who 
have  left  this  state  of  existence  ;  consequently  they  have 
appeared  to  us  much  more  than  they  really  are.  But, 
even  if  our  estimate  of  them  was  correct,  it  would  not 
follow  that  those  who  could  communicate  with  them,  or 
be  controlled  by  them,  would  necessarily  be  better  than 
others.  If  a  beggar  should  bear  a  message  from  a  far- 
mer to  a  judge,  it  would  not  have  the  least  tendency  to 
make  him  either  one  or  the  other ;  neither  would  it  tend 
to  make  a  truthful  man  of  a  liar,  should  one  who  was 
truthful  employ  him  to  carry  a  letter  to  another  of  the 
same  character." 

"  I  see,  I  see,  Alice ;  but  does  not  mediumship  itself 
tend  to  degrade  the  individual,  from  the  very  fact  of 
their  negative  condition  ?  You  yourself  have  admitted 
that  they  do  many  things  that  do  not  properly  belong  to 
them  as  individuals." 


252  ALICE   VALE. 

"  If  conditions  are  not  right,  it  may  have  that  ten- 
dency ;  but  what  shall  we  do  in  the  case  ?  —  ignore  the 
fact  of  mediumship,  turn  our  back  upon  those  who  are 
such,  and  leave  them  to  sink  in  the  mire  if  they  will  ?  " 

"  I  think,  if  I  were  a  medium,  Alice,  I  would  give  it 
up,  — would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  whatever." 

"  And  if  you  were  a  sponge,  uncle,  you  would  not  be 
a  sponge,  lest  you  might  sometime  fall  into  muddy 
water,  and  thus  absorb  its  filth." 

"  Nonsense  :  what  becomes  of  our  free  agency  in 
that  case  ;  that  is,  if  your  illustration  is  a  good  one  ?  " 

"  What  becomes  of  your  free  agency  in  the  color 
of  your  eyes  or  hair,  in  your  height,  sex,  or  the  color  of 
your  skin  ?  You  may  dye  your  hair ;  but  it  will  grow 
out  again,  the  same  color  as  before.  You  may  dress  in 
woman's  clothes,  but  you  will  be  a  man  still.  And  so  on 
through  the  list :  nature  will  assert  herself  in  spite  of 
you.  It  is  the  same  of  mediumship :  it  is  a  physiological 
condition,  over  which  you  may  have  a  partial,  a  tem- 
porary control ;  but,  in  spite  of  it  all,  you  are  a  medium 
still." 

"  Have  mediums,  then,  no  individuality  ?  " 

"  They  have.  Place  a  sponge  in  milk,  and  it  will 
absorb  milk ;  but  it  is  a  sponge  still,  and  the  milk  ab- 
sorbed is  no  part  of  it :  and  thus  of  every  substance, 
capable  of  being  absorbed,  in  which  you  may  place  it. 
A  sponge  is  one  of  the  connecting  links  between  the 
vegetable  and  the  animal  kingdom.  If  you  place  it  in 
connection  with  a  liquid  vegetable  substance,  it  absorbs 
it ;  if  in  connection  with  a  liquid  animal  substance,  it  will 
do  the  same.  Mediums  are  the  connecting  links 
between  those  who  live  in  the  material  world  and  those 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETC.  253 

who  live  in  the  spirit  world ;  and  they  also  have  their 
distinct  individuality." 

"  Who,  then,  shall  judge  them  ?  " 

"  The  God  within  their  own  souls  :  none  other  need 
attempt  it,  and  expect  to  judge  righteous  judgment. 
And  this  is  as  true  of  others  as  of  mediums.  Still,  it  is 
a  hard  lesson  for  humanity  to  learn;  for,  measuring 
others  by  ourselves,  we  are  too  apt  to  blame  if  they 
dare  to  differ  from  us,  and  especially  if  it  is  upon 
points  that  we  deem  of  vital  importance.  The  words 
of  Pope, — 

"  Let  not  this  weak,  this  erring  hand 
Presume  thy  bolts  to  throw,"  — 

And  those  other  words  spoken  by  Jesus  so  long  before, 
'  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged,'  —  these  need  to 
take  deep  root  in  every  heart,  and  must,  before  we  can 
exercise  that  '  charity '  which  *  suffereth  long,  and  is 
kind.'  " 

"  Well,  Alice,  I  do  not  see  as  there  is  much  use  in 
talking  with  you,  as  one  can  not  get  the  advantage  of 
you :  you  will  make  your  side  smooth  all  the  time,"  said 
Mr.  Vale,  laughing. 

"  And  did  you  wish  to  get  the  advantage  of  me, 
uncle  ?  "- 

"  No  :  I  don't  know  as  I  did ;  still,  I  did  not  think 
you  would  always  have  so  ready  an  answer.  But  you 
have  not  satisfied  me  upon  every  point :  I  think  I  will 
go  to  bed,  and  study  the  matter  over  a  little." 

"  Better  go  to  sleep,  uncle,  for  I  know  that  you  are 
tired ;  and,  if  you  expect  me  or  any  one  else  to  satisfy 
you  on  every  point,  you  will  find  yourself  mistaken. 
The  soul  must  answer  its  own  questioning." 


254  ALICE   VALE. 

"  Must  answer  its  own  questioning !  what  do  you 
mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Simply  this :  another  may  throw  light  upon  our 
path  ;  but  we  must  travel  it  for  ourselves,  if  we  would 
know  to  a  certainty  what  lies  at  the  end  of  it." 

"  What  a  puss  you  are !  you  are  as  ready  at  com- 
parisons as  a  cat  is  at  catching  mice ;  but  do  you  ever 
doubt  and  question,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Often,  often,  uncle.  The  problems  of  life  call  me 
out  in  this  direction  continually;  so  much  so  that  I 
sometimes  agonize  for  the  solution." 

"  And  you  expect  to  find  the  solution  at  last  ?  " 

"  Sooner  or  later,  I  shall." 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  then  ?  " 

"  Use  them  as  a  torch  to  light  the  pathway  of  others, 
these  that  I  solve  while  here ;  and  those  that  I  can  not 
solve  till  I  leave  the  body,  I  hope  to  find  some  medium 
to  use  them  for  me." 

"  I  hope  you  will  if  there  is  any  truth  in  this  matter ; 
but  I  shall  need  a  somewhat  different  torch  to  light  me 
to  bed,  —  material  light  for  material  persons  like 
myself." 

"  Will  this  lamp  answer  your  purpose,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Capitally,  puss." 

"  What !  just  as  it  is  ?  "  said  Alice,  looking  up  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  her  ev«- 

"  No,  you  rogue  :  it  must  be  lighted,  of  course." 

"How?" 

"  With  a  match,  I  presume :  that  is  what  I  generally 
use." 

"  And  they  must  be  ignited  by  friction  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  rule,  I  believe  ;  that  is,  when  there  is 
no  fire  within  reach  to  touch  them  to." 


INQUIRIES,  LIFE'S  PROBLEMS,  ETC  255 

"  And  even  then  the  brimstone  must  be  burned  off 
before  they  are  of  any  use." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  but  what  sage  application  do  you  intend 
to  make  of  that  fact  ?  " 

"  Simply  this,  uncle :  when  the  friction  of  life  has 
taken  you  beyond  the  brimstone  of  past  teachings,  the 
lamp  of  your  soul  will  burn  so  clearly  that  you  will  not 
need  to  say  '  if  there  is  any  truth  in  this  matter  ; '  for 
you  will  know  for  yourself  that  there  is." 

"  God  speed  the  time,  and  good-night,"  said  he,  as  he 
disappeared  up  the  stairway,  and  Alice  was  left  to  her 
own  reflections.  Porter  had  been  busy  with  some 
writing,  and  had  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation, 
though  he  had  heard  a  portion  of  it.  Putting  aside  his 
work  soon  after  Mr.  Vale  retired,  he  said,  "  Come 
Alice,  is  it  not  most  bedtime  ?  " 

Alice  was  sitting  with  hef  face  buried  in  her  hands, 
and  replied,  "  Don't  wait  for  me  :  I  am  thinking. " 

"  Solving  problems  ?  " 

"  Yes  :    trying  to." 

"  I  will  leave  you,  then,  to  your  own  thoughts,"  said 
he,  as  he  retired ;  and,  with  your  permission,  kind 
reader,  we  will  do  the  same,  for,  rest  assured,  sLe  is  not 
thinking  for  herself  alone. 


THE   END. 


CATALOGUE 

OP 

SPIRITUAL    AND    REFORM    BOOKS, 

ALSO 

LIBERAL   AND   PHIIOSCPIIICAL  WOEKS, 

ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC., 
PUBLISHED    AND    FOR    SALE    BY 

WILLIAM    WHITE    &    COMPANY, 

No.  158  "WASHINGTON  STKEET, 
BOSTON,    »I  ASS. 


COMPLETE    WORKS     OF    A.    J.    DAVIS, 

Comprising  Twenty-Three  Volu*^,  all  neatly  bound  in  cloth. 

Arabula  ;  or,  The  Divine  Guest.  Containing  a  New  Collection  of  Gos- 
pels. $1,50,  postage  20  ceuts. 

A  Stellar  Key  to  the  Summer-Land.  Illustrated  with  Diagrams  and 
Engravings  cf  Celestial  Scenery.  $1,00,  postage  16  cents. 

Approaching  Crisis.  Being  a  Review  of  Dr.  Busbnell's  Lectures  on 
Supernaturalism.  $1,00,  postage  16  cents. 

Answers  to  Ever-Recurring  Questions  from  the  People.     A 

Sequel  to  the  "  Penetralia."    $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Children's  Progressive  Lyceum.  A  New  Manual,  with  full  directions 
for  the  Organization  and  Management  of  Sunday  Schools.  70  cents,  postage  8 
cents;  12  copies,  $8,00;  50  eo|  it-s,  $30.00;  100  copies,  $50,00.  Abridged  Edi- 
tion, 40  cents,  postage  4  cents;  12  cupies,  $4,00;  5O  copies,  $16,00;  100  copies, 

$28,00. 

Death  and  the  After-Life.  Eight  Lectures,  and  a  Voice  from  the  Sum- 
mer-Land. Cloth  75  cents,  postage  12  cents ;  paper  50  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

Great  Harmonia  :  Bern;;  a  Philosophical  Revelation  uf  the  Natur.il,  Spir- 
itual and  Cilesual  Universe,  in  Five  Volumes.  Vol.  1— The  Physician;  Vol.  2 — 
The  Teacher;  Vol.  3 — The  Seer;  Vol.  4— The  Reformer;  Vol.  5— The  Thinker. 
$1,50  each,  postage  20  cents  each. 

History  and  Philosophy  of  Evil.  Paper  50  cents,  cloth  75  cents, 
'postage  12  cents. 

Harbinger  of  Health.  Containing  Medical  Prescriptions  for  the  Human 
Body  and  Mind.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Hartnonial  Man ;  or,  Thoughts  for  the  Age.  Paper  50  cents 
cloth  $1.00,  postage  16  cents. 

Magic  Staff :  An  Autobiography  of  Andrew  Jackson  Davis.  $1,75,  postag* 
!J4  cents. 

Memoranda  of  Persons,  Places  and  Events  :  Embracing  AutlentU 
Facts,  Visions,  Impressions,  Discoveries  in  Magnetism,  Clairvoyance,  Spiritual 
'sm.  Also  Quotations  from  the  Opposition.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 


2  SPIRITUAL    A.STD   RE70T1M  BOOKS. 

Morning  Lectures.  Twenty  Discourses  delivered  before  the  Friends  of 
Progress  in  New  York.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Philosophy  of  Special  Providences,  and  Free  Thoughts  Con- 
cerning Religion.  Neatly  bound  together.  60  cunts,  postage  12  cents; 
also  in  paper,  20  cents  each. 

Philosophy  of  Spiritual  Intercourse.    $1,00  postage  16  cents. 

Principles  of  Nature  :  Her  Divine  Revelations,  and  A  Voice  to  Mankind, 
lu  Tlnee  Part*.  Tniriy-First  Edition.  With  a  likeness  of  the  author,  ami  con- 
taining  a  family  record  tor  marriages,  births  and  deaths.  $3,50,  postage  48  cents. 

Penetralia :  Being  Hanuonial  Answers  to  Important  Questions.  $1,75, 
postage  24  cents. 

Spirit  Mysteries  Explained.  The  Inner  Life;  a  Sequel  to  Spiritual 
Intercourse.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Tale  of  a  Physician  ;  or,  The  Seeds  and  Fruits  of  Crime.  In 
Three  Parts — complete  iu  one  volume.  Part  1 — Planting  the  Seeds  of  Crime; 
Part  II— Trees  of  Crime  in  Full  Bloom;  Part  III— Reaping  the  Fruits  of  Crime. 
$1.00,  postage  16  cents. 

OS*  Price  of  Complete  Works  of  A.  J.  Davis,  $26,00. 


SPIRITUAL     AND     PROGRESSIVE     WORKS. 

Arcana  of  Nature  ;  or,  The  History  and  Laws  of  Creation.  By 
Hudson  Tuttle.  1st  Vol.  $1,25,  postage  18  cents. 

Arcana  of  Nature  ;  or.  The  Philosophy  of  Spiritual  Existence 
and  of  the  Spirit-World.  By  Hudson  Tuttle.  2d  Vol.  $1,25,  postage 
18  cents. 

After  Death;  or,  Disembodied  Man.  The  Location.  Topography 
and  Scenery  of  the  Supernal  Universe;  Its  Inhabitants,  their  Customs,  Habits, 
Modes  of  Existence  ;  Sex  after  Death ;  Marriage  in  the  World  of  Souls  ;  The  Sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost ;  Its  fearful  Penalties,  etc.  Being  the  Sequel  to  "  Deal- 
ings with  the  Dead."  $l,oO.  postage  20  cents. 

A  B  C  of  Life.    By  A.  B.  Child,  M.  D.    25  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

A  Letter  to  the  Chestnut-street  Congregational  Church, 
Chelsea,  Mass.,  in  Reply  to  its  Charges  of  having  become  a  Reproach  to 
the  Cause  of  Truth,  in  consequence  of  a  Change  of  Religious  Belief.  By  John 
8.  Adams.  15  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Apostles.  By  Ernest  Renan,  author  of  "The  Life  of  Jesus,"  being  part 
second  of  "The  Origin  of  Christianity."  Translated  from  the  French.  $1,7  '<, 
postage  free. 

Blossoms  of  Our  Spring.  A  Poetic  Work.  By  Hudson  and  Emma  Tut- 
tle. $1,00,  postage  20  cents. 

Brittan  and  Richmond's  Discussion.  400  pages,  octavo.  This  work 
contains  twenty-four  letters  from  each  of  the  parties  above-named,  embodying  a 
groat  number  of  facts  and  arguments,  pro  and  con.,  designed  to  illustrate  the 
spiritual  phenomena  Of  all  ages,  but  especially  the  modern  manifestations. 
$2,50,  postage  28  cents. 

Brittan's  Review  of  Beecher's  Report  of  Spiritualism  ;  wherein 
the  conclusions  of  the  latter  are  carefully  examined  and  tested  by  a  comparison 
with  his  premises,  with  reason  and  with  the  facts.  Cloth  bound,"  75  cents,  j  cs> 
age  8  cents. 

Brittan'a  Review  of  Rev.  C.  M.  Butler,  D.  D.  This  is  a  brief  refu- 
tation of  the  principal  objections  urged  by  the  clergy  against  Spiritualism,  and 
Is,  therefore,  a  good  thing  for  general  circulation.  50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Be  Thyself.  A  Discourse  by  Prof.  William  Denton.  10  cents,  postage  2 
cents. 

Bible  Convention  at  Hartford.    $1,50,  postage  16  cents. 
Bouquet  of  Spiritual  Flowers.    By  Mrs.  J.  S.  Adams.     $1,00 ;  gilt 
$1,50,  postage  Id  cents. 


SPIRITUAL   AND  HEFORM  BOOKS.  3 

Branch  33  of  Palm.  By  Mrs.  J.  S.  Adams.  A  book  for  every  Spiritualist 
»nd  Friend  rf  Truth  and  Progress.  $1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Celestial  Telegraph.    $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Christ  and  the  People.    By  A.  B.  Child.    $1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Courtney's  Review  of  Dod's  Involuntary  Theory  of  the  Spir- 
itual Manifestations.  A  most  triumphant  refutation  of  the  only  material 
theory  that  deserves  a  respectful  notice.  50  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

Christ  and  the  Pharisees  upon  the  Sabbath.  By  a  Student  of 
Divinity.  25  cenis,  postage  2  cents. 

Deluge.    By  Prof.  William  Denton.    10  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Dissertation  on  the  Evidences  of  Divine  Inspiration.  By  Datui 
Kelley.  25  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Dealings  with  the  Dead :  The  Human  Soul — its  Migrations  and  it§ 
Transmigrations.  By  P.  B.  Randolph.  75  cents,  postage  12  cents. 

Day  of  Doom ;  or,  A  Poetical  Description  of  the  Great  and 
Tiast  Judgment,  with  other  Poems.  By  Rev.  Michael  Wigglesworth,  A.  M. 
From  the  sixth  edition  of  1715.  $1,00,  postage  12  cents. 

Future  Life  :  As  Described  and  Portrayed  by  Spirits.  Through  Mrs.  Eliza- 
beth Sweet.  With  an  Introduction  by  Judge  Bdmouds.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

False  and  True  Revival  of  Religion.    10  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Faith,  Hope  and  Love.  A  Discourse  by  Cora  L.  V.  Daniels.  20  cents, 
postage  2  cents. 

Further  Communications  from  the  "World  of  Spirits,  on  sub- 
jects highly  important  to  the  Human  Family.  By  Joshua,  Solomon,  and  others. 
Paper  50  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

Footfalls  on  the  Boundary  of  Another  World,  with  Narrative 
Illustrations.  By  Robert  Dale  Owen.  $1,75,  postage  25  cents. 

Fugitive  Wife.  By  Warren  Chase.  Paper  35  cents,  postage  4  cents; 
cloth  60  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

Free  Love  and  Affinity.  A  Discourse.  By  Miss  Lizzie  Doten.  10 
cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Geology  :  The  Past  and  Future  of  our  Planet.  By  Prof.  William 
Denton.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Gospel  of  Good  and  Evil.  By  Joseph  S.  Silver.  Printed  on  fine  tinted 
paper,  bevelea  boards,  <to.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Gist  of  Spiritualism  :  Being  a  Course  of  Five  Lectures  delivered  by  War- 
ren Chase  in  Washington.  50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Gates  Ajar.    By  Elizabeth  Stuart  Pbelps.    $1,50,  postage  16  cents. 

Gatc.s  Wide  Open ;  or,  Scenes  in  Another  World.    By  George 

Wood.    $1,50,  postage  2>)  cents. 

Healing  of  the  Nations.  Second  Series.  By  Charles  Linton.  363  pp. 
$2,50,  postage  30  cents. 

Hierophant ;  or,  Gleanings  from  the  Past.  By  G.  C.  Stewart. 
$1,00,  postage  12  cents. 

History  of  the  Supernatural.  By  William  Howitt.  Two  Volumes. 
$3,00,  postage  40  cents. 

History  of  the  Chicago  Artesian  Well.  By  George  A.  Shufeldt,  Jr. 
Fifth  Edition.  25  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Hymns  of  Progress :  Being  a  Compilation,  original  and  selected,  ot 
Hymns,  Songs  and  Readings,  designed  to  meet  a  part  of  the  progressive  wants 
of  the  age,  in  Church,  Grove,  Hall,  Lyceum  and  School.  By  L.  K.  Coonley.  75 
cents,  postage  12  cents. 

How  and  Why  I  became  a  Spiritualist.    By  Wash.  A.  Danskin.    7fl 

cen  >s,  postage  8  cents. 

Improvisations  from  the  Spirit.  By  J.  J.  Garth  Wilkinson.  $1,00, 
postage  12  cents. 


4  SPIRITUAL  AND.  REFORM  BOOKS. 

Intellectual  Freedom ;  or,  Emancipation  from  Mental  and 
Physical  Bondage.  By  Charles  8.  Woodruff,  M.  D.,  author  of  "  Legalized 
Prostitution,"  etc.  50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Instructive  Communications  from  Spirit-Land.  Written  through 
the  mediumship  of  Mrs.  S'.  E.  Park,  by  the  instrumentality  of  her  spirit  hus- 
band, who  departed  this  life  in  1863.  $1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Incidents  in  My  Life.  By  D,  D.  Home,  with  an  Introduction  by  Judge 
Edmonds.  $1,23,  postage  16  cents. 

Jesus  of  Nazareth;  or,  A  True  History  of  the  Man  called 
Jesus  Christ :  Embracing  his  Parentage,  his  Youth,  his  Original  Doctrines 
and  Works,  his  career  as  a  Public  Teacher  and  Physician  of  the  People,  &o. 
New  Edition.  $1,75,  postage  24  cents. 

Joan  D'Arc.  A  Biography.  Translated  from  the  French,  by  Sarah  M. 
Grimke.  With  Portrait.  $1,00,  postage  12  cents. 

Kingdom  of  Heaven ;  or,  The  Golden  Age.  By  E.  W.  Loveland. 
$l,uO,  postage  12  cents. 

Lily  "Wreath  of  Spiritual  Communications.  Received  chiefly 
through  the  mediumship  of  Mrs.  J.  S.  Adams.  $1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Life-Line  of  the  Lone  One.  By  Warren  Chase.  New  Edition.  $1,00, 
postage  16  cents. 

Lyric  of  the  Golden  Age.  By  Thomas  L.  Harris.  $2,00,  postage  20 
cents. 

Light  from  the  Spirit- World.  By  Rev.  Charles  Hammond.  $1,25, 
postage  12  cents. 

Legalized  Prostitution ;  or,  Marriage  as  it  Is,  and  Marriage 
as  it  Should  Be,  Philosophically  Considered.  By  Charles  S.  Wood- 
ruff, M.  D.  $1,00,  postage  16  cents. 

Modern  American  Spiritualism :  A  Twenty  Years'  Record  of  the  Com- 
muuion  between  Earth  and  the  World  of  Spirits.  By  Emma  Hardinge.  $3,75, 
postage  40  cents. 

Man  and  His  Relations.  Illustrating  the  Influence  of  the  Mind  on  the 
Bufly.  the  Relations  <>f  the  faculties  to  the  Organs,  and  to  the  Elements,  Objects 
and'Phenomena  of  the  External  World.  By  Prof.  S.  B.  Brittan.  M.  D.  Although 
treating  of  the  prufoundest  of  subjects,  it  is  written  ill  an  t-legaiit  and  attractive 
style,  elf  ;tr  and  logi-.al.  Printed  on  fine  tinted  paper.  One  volume,  8'vo.  $4,00, 
postage  40  cents. 

My  Affinity,  and  Other  Stories.    By  Lizzie  Dnten.    A  book  for  Ly- 
ceums, Libraries,  Associations,  &o.    $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 
Man  of  Faith.    By  Henry  Lacroix.    23  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Night-Side  of  Nature  ;  or,  Ghosts  and  Ghost-Seers.  By  Cathe- 
rine Crowe.  New  edition,  substantially  bound  in  cloth.  $1,25,  postage  20  cents. 

Natty,  a  Spirit ;  His  Portrait  and  Life.  By  Allen  Putnam.  Cloth 
75  cents,  postage  8  cents ;  paper  50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Plain  Guide -to  Spiritualism.  A  Spiritual  Handbook.  By  Uriah  Clark. 
$1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Poems  from  the  Inner  Life.  By  Lizzie  Doten.  Sixth  Edit'on.  Full 
gilt  $1,75,  postage  free;  plain  $1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Peep  Into  Sacred  Tradition.  By  Rev.  Orrin  Abbott.  50  cents,  post- 
age 4  cents. 

Poems.    By  Achsa  W.  Sprague.    $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Principles  of  Nature,  as  discovered  in  the  Development  and  Structure 
ot  the  Universe.  Given  inspirationally,  through  Mrs.  J.  King.  327  pages. 
$2,00,  postage  24  cents.  ' 

Physics,  Ethics,  Religion  and  Spiritualism.  By  Amicus  Anony- 
mous, A.  M.  25  cents,  pottage  4  cents. 

Progress  of  Religious  Ideas  Through  Successive  Ages.  By  I* 
Maria  Child.  Three  Volumes.  $6,75,  postage  72  cents. 


SPIRITUAL   AND  REFORM  BOOKS.  5 

Physical  Man,  Scientifically  Considered.  By  Hudson Tuttle.  $L,50, 
postage  free. 

Philosophy  of  Mesmerism  and  Clairvoyance.  Six  Lectures,  with 
:nstructious.  50  cents,  postage  4  cents 

Philosophy  of  Electrical  Psychology.  In  Twelve  Lectures.  By  Dr. 
Bods.  $1,00,  postage  10  cents. 

Physical  Perfection:  Showing  how  to  acquire  and  retain  bodily  sym- 
metry, health  and  vigor,  secure  long  life,  and  avoid  the  infirmities  and  deformi- 
ties of  age.  By  D.  H.  Jacques.  Beautifully  illustrated.  $1,75,  postage  16  cents. 

Planchette's  Diary.    By  Kate  field.     50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Rules  to  be  Observed  for  the  Spiritual  Circle.  By  Emma  .lar- 
dinge.  10  cents,  postage  free. 

Report  of  an  Extraordinary  Church  Trial :  Conservatives  versus 
Progressives.  By  Philo  Hermes.  25  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Road  to  Spiritualism.    By  Dr.  E.  T.  Hallock.    50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Rose  and  Lily,  the  Twin  Sisters,  and  their  Testimony  to  the  Truth 
of  tin-,  Spiritual  Philosophy.  15  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Reply  to  the  Rev.  Dr  W.  P.  Lunt's  Discourse  against  the  Spiritual  Philoso- 
phy. By  Miss  E.  R.  Torrey.  25  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Seers  of  the  Ages:  Ancient,  Mediaeval  and  Modern  Spiritualism.  By  J. 
M.  Peebles'.  Srcond  Edition.  $2  00.  postage  32  cents. 

Spiritual  Harp  :  A  collection  of  Vocal  Music  for  the  Choir,  Congregation, 
and  Social  Circles.  By  J.  M.  Peebles  and  J.  O.  Barrett.  E.  H.  Bailey,  Musical 
Editor.  Third  Edition.  $2,00  single  copy  ;  6  copies,  $10,00 ;  12  copies,  $19,00; 
25  copies,  $38,00;  50  copies,  $72,50;  when  sent  by  mail,  postage  24  cents  per 
copj . 

Spirituelle ;  or,  Directions  in  Development.  By  Abby  M.  Laflin 
Ferree.  30  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Soul  Affinity.    By  A.  B.  Child,  M.  D.    20  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Spiritual  Invention ;  or,  Autobiographic  Scenes  and  Sketches. 

20  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Soul  of  Things;  or,  Psychometric  Researches  and  Discov- 
eries. By  Prof.  William  and  Elizabeth  M.  F.  Denton.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Pririt  Minstrel.  A  Collection  of  Hymns  and  Music  for  the  use  of  Spirit- 
ualists in  tlieir  Circles  and  Public  Meetings.  Sixth  Edition,  enlarged.  By  J.  B. 
Packard  and  J.  S.  Loveland.  Boards  50  cents,  paper  35  cents,  postage  free. 

Self-Contradictions  of  the  Bible.  144  Propositions,  without  comment, 
embodying  most  of  the  palpable  and  striking  self-contradictions  of  the  Bible. 
25  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Spiritualism.  Vol.  1.  By  Judge  Edmonds  and  Dr.  Dexter.  $2,50,  postage 
32  cents. 

Spiritualism.  Vol.  2.  By  Judge  Edmonds  and  Dr.  Dexter.  $2,50,  postage 
32  cents. 

Six  Lectures  on  Theology  and  Nature.  By  Emma  Hardinge.  Steel 
plate  Portrait  of  Author.  Cloth  $1,00.  postage  12  cents ;  paper  75  cents,  postage 
8  cents. 

Spirit  "Works,  Real  but  not  Miraculous.  A  Lecture,  read  at  the 
City  Hall,  in  Roxbury,  Mass.,  by  Allen  Putnam.  35  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Sabbath  of  Life.    By  R.  D.  Addington.    $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Shekinah.  Vols.  I,  II  and  III.  By  S.  B.  Brittan.  $2,50  per  volume;  gilt 
$3,50  per  volume ;  postage  30  cents  per  volume. 

Seeress  of  Prevorst.  By  Justinus  Kcrner.  A  book  of  facts  and  revela- 
tions concerning  the  inner  life  of  man,  and  a  world  of  spirits.  New  Edition.  75 
cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Spiritual  Songs.  A  Collection  of  Original  Musio  for  Spiritual  Gatherings 
and  Lyceums.  By  S.  W,  Tucker.  15  cents,  postage  2  cents. 


6  SPIRITUAL  AND  REFORM  BOOKS. 

The  Davenport  Brothers,  the  World-Renowned  Spiritual  Mediums: 
their  Biography,  and  Adventures  in  Europe  and  America.  Jiut  published.  Il- 
lustrated with  numerous  engravings.  $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

The  Question  Settled:  A  Carctul  Comparison  of  Biblical  and  Modern 
8piritualit.ni.  By  Rev.  Moses  Hull.  $1,50,  po*tage  20  cents. 

Triumph  of  Criticism:  A  Critical  and  Paradox  Work  on  the  Bible  and 
our  Theological  Idea  of  Deity,  as  received  from  its  authors.  By  M.  B.  Craven. 
40  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

The  Tjiying  Present  and  Dead  Past ;  or,  God  made  Manifest 
and  Useful  in  Living  Men  and  Women  as  he  was  in  Jesus.  By 
Senry  C.  Wright.  New  and  Revised  Edition.  Cloth  75  cents,  postage  8  cents ; 
paper  50  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

The  Harvester :  For  Gathering  the  Ripened  Crops  on  every  Homestead, 
leaving  the  Unripe  to  Mature.  By  a  Merchant.  $1,00,  postage  12  cents. 

Theodore  Parker  in  Spirit-Life :  A  Narration  of  Personal  Experi- 
ences. Inspirationally  given  to  Fred.  L.  H.  Willis,  M.  D.  25  cents  single  copy  ; 
50  copies  $8,00 ;  100  copies  $15,00. 

Thirty-Two  Wonders ;  or,  The  Skill  Displayed  in  the  Mira- 
cles of  Jesus.  By  Prof.  M.  Durais.  Paper  35  cents,  postage  2  cents ;  cloth 
60  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

The  Voices :  A  Poem  in  Three  Parts.  By  Warren  S.  Barlow.  $1,25, 
postage  16  cents. 

Truth  for  the  Times,  gathered  at  a  Spiritual  Thought  Concert.  15  cents, 
postage  2  cents. 

The  Worker  and  His  Work :  A  Discourse.  By  Dr.  R.  T.  Hallock.  15 
cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Twelve  Messages  from  the  Spirit  of  John  Quincy  Adams, 

through  Joseph  D.  Stiles,  medium,  to  Josiah  Brigham.    $2,00,  postage  32  cents. 

The  Bible:  Is  it  of  Divine  Origin,  Authority  and  Influence?  By  S.  J. 
Fiuney.  Cloth  60  cents,  postage  8  cents ;  paper  35  cents,  postage  4  cents. 

Tracts.  By  Jnrlge  Edmonds.  No.  1  to  No.  10  inclusive,  in  neat  cover,  30 
cents,  postage  4  cents ;  No.  10,  Letters  to  the  New  York  Tribune.  20  cents,  post- 
age 4  cents;  No.  11,  Instances  of  Spirit  Communion,  10  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Tracts.  By  T.ois  Waisbrooker.  Subjects:  No.  1,  What  is  Spiritualism?  No. 
2.  G»d's  Image;  No.  3,  The  True  Second  Birth  ;  No.  4,  The  Law*  of  Int-piraiii-n  ; 
No.  5,  The  Maiiilestations  Undignified  ;  Nu.  6,  Don't  Want  to  Know;  No.  7,  Is 
there  not  a  Cause?  No.  8.  Hell ;  No.  9,  Their  fruits;  No.  10.  The  Laws  ol  Medi- 
umship.  These  ten  numbers  are  stitched  together.  10  cents  per  set,  postage  2 
cents. 

Voices  from  Spirit-Land.  By  Nathan  Francis  White,  medium.  75 
cents,  postage  12  cents. 

What  is  Spiritualism  ?  An  Address  delivered  by  Thomas  Gales  Forster, 
in  Music  Hall,  Boston,  Mass.,  Sunday  afternoon,  Oct.  27,  1867.  25  cents  single 
copy  ;  50  copies  $8,00 ;  100  copies  $15,00. 

Whatever  Is,  is  Right.     By  A.  B.  Child,  M.  D.     $1,00,  postage  16  cents. 

Whatever  Is,  is  Eight  Vindicated:  Being  a  Letter  to  Cynthia  Tem- 
ple, .n lefty  reviewing  her  Theory  of  "It  isn't  all  Right."  By  A.  P.  McCombs. 
10  cents,  postage  2  cents. 


ENGLISH    WORKS. 

"  Primeval  Man."  The  Origin,  Declension  and  Restoration  of  the  Race. 
Spiritual  Revealings.  $2,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Supramnndane  Facts  in  the  Life  of  Eev.  Jesse  Eabcock  Fer- 
guson, A.  M.,  L.L.  D.,  including  Twenty  Years'  Observation  of  Preternatu- 
ral Phenomei  a.  Edited  by  T.  L.  Nichols,  M.  D.  $1,75,  postage  free. 


SPIRITUAL   AND  REFORM   BOOKS.  7 

MISCELLANEOUS     AND     REFORM     WORKS. 

American  Crisis ;  or,  The  Trial  and  Triumph  of  Democracy. 

By  Wan-en  Chase.    25  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Apocryphal  New  Testament.    $1,25,  postage  16  cents. 

Age  of  Reason :  Being  an  Investigation  of  True  and  Fabulous  Theology. 
Cloth.  50  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

Astro-Theological  Lectures.  By  Rev.  Robert  Taylor.  $2,00,  postage 
21  cents. 

Art  of  Amusing  :  A  Collection  of  Graceful  Arts,  Merry  Games,  Odd  Tricks, 
Curious  Puzzles  and  New  Charades ;  with  suggestions  for  private  theatricals, 
tableaux,  all  sorts  of  parlor  and  family  amusements,  etc.  By  Frank  Bellew. 
$1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Alice  Vale  :  A  Story  for  the  Times.  By  Lois  Waibbrooker.  $1,25,  postage 
16  cents. 

A  Trip  to  the  Azores,  or  "Western  Islands.    By  M.  Borges  D.  V. 

Henriques.    $1,50. 

Adventures  of  Elder  Tubb.    65  cents,  postage  8  cents. 

Arnold,  and  Other  Poems.    ByJ.  R.  Orton.    $1,00  postage  12  cents. 

Atlantis,  and  Other  Poems.    By  Amanda  T.  Jones.    $1,25,  postage  free. 

Biography  of  Satan;  or,  A.  Historical  Exposition  of  the  Devil 
and  his  Fiery  Dominions,  disclosing  the  Oriental  origin  of  the  belief  In  a 
Devil  and  future  endless  punishment.  By  K.  Graves.  50  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Better  Views  of  Living ;  or,  Life  according  to  the  doctrine 
"  Whatever  Is,  is  Right."  By  A.  B.  Child,  M.  D.  $1.00,  postage  12  cents. 

Basic  Principles  of  Organization;  With  a  brief  sjnopsis  of  the  Coop- 
eration Universal,,  or  Divine  Mutuality.  Part  No  1.  25  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Book  of  Religions :  Comprising  the  Views,  Creeds,  Sentiments  or  Opin- 
ions of  all  the  principal  Religious  Sects  in  the  World.  By  John  Hayward.  $1,75, 
postage  free. 

Book  of  Notions.    By  John  Hay-ward.    75  cents,  postage  12  cents. 

Chester  Family  :  A  New  Temperance  Story.  By  Julia  M.  Friend.  $1,00, 
postage  12  cents. 

Common  Sense  Thoughts  on  the  Bible.  For  Common  Sense  People 
By  William  Dcutuu.  10  cents,  postage  2  cents. 

Cosmology.    By  George  M.  Ramsey.    $1,50,  postage  20  cents. 

Combe's  Constitution  of  Man.  Twenty-Eighth  American  Edition. 
One  Volume,  lOmo.  $1.50,  postage  16  cents. 

Companion  Poets  for  the  People.  Illustrated.  Vol.  1 — Household 
Poems,  by  h.  W.  Longfellow  ;  Vol.  2 — Songs  for  all  Seasons,  by  Alfred  Tenny- 
son ;  Vol.  3 — National  Lyrics,  by  John  G.  Whittier;  Vol.  4 — Lyrics  of  Life,  by 
Robert  Browning.  Each  volume  complete  In  itself.  50  cents  each,  postage  2 
cents  each. 

Complete  Works  of  Thomas  Paine,  Secretary  to  the  Committee  of 
Foreign  Affairs  in  the  American  Revolution.  Three  Volumes.  Consisting  of  his 
Political,  Theological  and  Miscellaneous  Writings.  To  which  is  added  a  brief 
sketch  of  his  Lite.  $6,00,  postage  90  cents. 

Clairvoyant  Family  Physician.  By  Mrs.  L.  Tuttle.  $1,25,  postage. 
12  cents. 

Diegesis  :  Being  a  Discovery  of  the  Origin,  Evidences  and  Early  History 
of  Christianity,  never  yet  before  or  elsewhere  so  fully  and  faithfully  set  forth. 
By  Rev.  Robert  Taylor.  $2,00,  postage  24  cents. 

Dawn.    A  New  Work  of  Exciting  Interest.    $1,75,  postage  24  cents. 

Dissertations  and  Discussions.  By  John  Stuart  Mill.  Three  Volumes; 
12mo.,  cloth.  $6,75. 

Eliza  Woodson;  or,  The  Early  Days  of  One  of  the  World's 
Workers.  A  Story  of  American  Life.  $1,50,  postage  free. 


ANNER   OF   LIGHT: 


EXPOXJEJVX1    OF 

SPIRITUAL    PHILOSOPHY 

OF    THE    NINETEENTH    CENTURY. 

PUBLISHED     WEEKLY 

AT  NO.  158  WASHINGTON  STREET,    .    .    .    BOSTON,  MASS. 

WILLIAM  WHITE  &  CO  ........    Proprietors. 

WILLIAM  WHITE.  LUTHER  COLBY.  ISAAC  B.  RICH. 


THE   BANNER  OP  LIGHT  is  a   first-class  eight-page  Family  Newspaper, 
containing  FORTY  COLUMNS  of  INTERESTING  AND  INSTRUCTIVE  READING,  classed 
as  follows : 
LITERARY  DEPARTMENT.  —  Original  Novelettes  of  reformatory 

tendencies,  and  occasionally  translations  from  French  and  German  authors. 
REPORTS  OF  SPIRITUAL  LECTURES— By  able  Trance  and 

Normal  Speakers. 

ORIGINAL  ESSAYS— Upon  Spiritual,  Philosophical,  and  Scientific 
Subjects. 

EDITORIAL  DEPARTMENT.  — Subjects  of  General  Interest,  the 
Spiritual  Philosophy,  Current  Events,  Entertaining  Miscellany,  Notices  of 
New  Publications,  Ac. 

MESSAGE  DEPARTMENT.  — A  page  of  Spirit-Messages  from  the 
departed  to  their  friends  in  earth-life,  given  through  the  mediumship  of 
MRS.  J.  H.  CONANT,  proving  direct  spirit-intercourse  between  the  Mundane 
and  Super-Mundane  Worlds. 
All  which  features  render  this  journal  a  popular  Family  Paper,  and  at  the 

same  time  the  Harbinger  of  a  Glorious  Scientific  Religion. 


TEEMS  OF  SUBSCRIPTION  IN  ADVANCE: 
Per  fear,  93.OO Six  MonthB.Sl.5O. 

In  remitting  by  mail,  a  Post  Office  Order  or  Draft  on  Boston  or  New  York  payable 
i  to  the  order  of  WILLIAM  V/HITB  &  Co.  is  preferable  to  Bank  Notes,  ^ince,  should 
the  Order  or  Draft  be  lost  or  stolen,  it  can  be  renewed  without  loss  to  the  sender. 

Subscriptions  discontinued  at  the  expiration  of  the  time  paid  for. 

Subscribers  in  Canada  will  add  to  the  terms  of  subscription  20  cents  per  year,  for 
pre-payment  of  American  postage. 

(tglF^  Speci'tien  Copies  tent  Free. 

ADVERTISEMENTS  inserted  at  twenty  cents  per  line  for  the  first,  and  fifteen  cents 
perline  for  each  subsequent  insertion. 

Jg^*  All  communications  intended  for  publication,  or  in  any  way  connected  with 
the  Editorial  Department  should  be  addressed  to  the  EDITOR.  Lettprs  to  the  Edi- 
tor, not  intended  for  publication,  should  be  marked  "  private  "  on  the  envelope. 


WILLIAM  WHITE  &  CO., 

PUBLISHERS    A.\D     BOOKSELLERS, 

No.  158  Washington  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 
This  Establishment  keeps  for  sale  all 


For  Prices,  &c  ,  see  Catalogues,  and  advertisements  in  the  Banner  of  Light. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


LD 


C'D  LD-URL 


-JUL25WI 

r~v    • 

j!     :'•'. 

L'  i ! 


APR  0  9  20[Z 


QUARTER  L 


DAN 


